Finding Salvation
by autumn sparrow
Summary: The Autobots rescue the remnant of an ancient species. AU Movieverse-ish. OC centric. Once the sequel is complete, I intend to rewrite this, and bring it up to the standard of Holding Onto The Future.
1. Impact

**Rating: M** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

**Disclaimer**: I am currently owned by my spouse, children, two dogs and a rabbit. Everything else is owned by someone other than me. I own Sira; she is a product of my insomnia. All people and events in this work of fiction are fictitious, except the lady in the housecoat. She is real, and I'll never tell where she lives.

Beta read by the wonderful **I-love-me-some-leggypoo**

**A/N - Please Read ****- **If this seems familiar, it is. This was formally posted as "Endangered Species". With the help of me Beta the first chapters have been cleaned up and corrected. I also, changed the title because I hated the original one. It had nothing to do with the final story. If you've read "Endangered Species", feel free to skip this. If you haven't, then continue forth.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Impact**_

A quiet town lay sleeping in the early morning hours as street lamps dotted the darkness in neat rows. On a distant hill, a lone figure watched the village while she contemplated her future. Above it all, the stars shimmered silently against the inky blackness of eternity.

The traveler turned her eyes away from the garish halogen of the town and bent to pick up the backpack at her feet. She loathed going into the town with its noise and people, but she had to. It was October and the northern wind carried the promising chill of winter to come. A home before the cold arrived would be a blessing. A shack with a wood stove and running water would also suffice.

As she walked down the two lane road, the traveler estimated her arrival in the town a couple of hours after sunrise. Perfect. Not so early that she was out of place, but not late enough that traffic clogged the roads.

"You'd better hope there is a truck stop with top-notch cheeseburgers," she said to the empty night air. A dry rattle was the only reply.

Onward she went. Her thoughts wondered to what kind of a town Tranquility could be. Hopefully it was full of soccer moms and corporate dads; people too wrapped up in their own lives to notice a new, quiet neighbor. Since the terrorist attacks on Mission City and the Hoover Dam, unfamiliar people attracted attention, and attention was something the traveler had spent a lifetime avoiding.

Tranquility looked promising. Tourist brochures showed a Norman Rockwell-ish charm, and touted about the quaint shopping district. Couldn't avoid that injection of "quaint" when describing a small town. The map placed the little 'burb in a wide valley, surrounded by countryside. A major plus, room to prowl. Close to a city, but also far enough away as to not have been consumed by the insatiable monster called urban sprawl.

Several other towns had also looked promising.

Paradise turned out to be a long row of bars, flanked with enough Mobil homes to spawn its own F-5 tornado. Happy Acres actually had a fair sized pig farm in the center of town. The stench of swine and waste assaulted the traveler's acute sense of smell, making her eyes water. And if that wasn't insult enough, some elderly woman came out of her house wearing a _very _short housecoat. When the matronly woman bent to retrieve the morning paper, she showed the world exactly what she was not wearing underneath. Why couldn't they give towns accurate names, like Alcoholic's Hell and Muddy Swine Flasher's Valley or Desperation Meadows and Wrinkled...well you know.

The traveler turned her eyes to the Heavens in silent prayer_. Please let Tranquility at least be tranquil, and have a good coffee shop or book store. Something that resembled civilization._

The distant noise of an engine interrupted her thoughts. Cocking her head one way, then the other, the traveler pinpointed the location and direction of the vehicle. Behind and heading towards her. Stepping off the road and onto the gravel shoulder, the traveler continued her journey.

Company was not appreciated. To deter any troublemakers, or over zealous do-gooders, the traveler decided to display a deterrent. She adjusted her shirt, pulling the tail up to expose the grip of a handgun. This was only a deterrent though. The clip and bullets were at the bottom of a river in another state. Her real weapon was an antique blade, sheathed in her backpack. Few predators were as cunning and vicious as she, so fear of the approaching car and its occupants never crossed her mind. She just didn't want the company.

The vehicle was coming closer. It sounded tinny, with a high pitched whine, either foreign or ill, or both. She noticed the lack of running lights behind her. The traveler stepped further to the outer edge of the gravel shoulder and continued walking, never looking back.

_**XxxX.**_

Travis had spent the night out with his buddies. Their team stomped the Kansas City Chiefs, not that that was hard to do, but a win was a win. Gratuitous celebrating followed, and now it was way after last call and he was trying to make his way home.

Why didn't he insist that they party in Tranquility? Then he would only have to drive a few blocks instead of twenty miles through the dark countryside. The longer he spent on the road the more likely he was to find a cop. Another DUI was something ol' Travis could hardly afford. The first one cost him a shit load of money, the second one could cost him his license.

Navigating without headlights wasn't the smartest thing to do out here, but it helped to avoid the County Sheriff. Travis made his way through the dark to get home. If his woman found out he had been out all night, again, she would probably be out of his life and him definitely out of her apartment. He pushed the accelerator, making the little car speed beyond what was safe.

Rounding a curve the bald tires lost traction, and skidded on the asphalt. The right side tires crunched on the gravel. His overcorrection sent the car into the oncoming lane and almost onto the opposite shoulder.

The cell phone rang as Travis crossed back over the center line. The Nokia's display lit up the trash in his passenger side floorboard. He leaned over to retrieve the phone and felt the tires slip off the road once more.

An impact rocked the little car.

Travis slammed on the breaks, more reflex then conscious thought. He just sat there, eyes wide, hands shaking, as something human sized, slid off his car's hood and onto the ground, out of sight. An eternity was paced into mere seconds for Travis. His thoughts ran wildly in circles while his body sat frozen in shock. Finally, he reached out and turned on the headlights. The intricate lines of a cracked windshield and settling dust were all that was illuminated. The darkness beyond was empty.

Opening his door, he got out. Travis took two steps to the front of the car and saw the consequences of this evening's overindulgence. In the harsh relief of the car's headlights was a crumpled mass. Long, red hair was spilt on the ground like blood, hiding the person's face. A delicate, pale hand flexed involuntarily against the pebbles. The only sound was the Honda's laboring engine.

"No. Nononononono!" Stammered Travis, as panic seeped into his inebriated thoughts. Images of jail cells and depraved men flashed in his mind. He backed away from the form lying

motionless on the road. Jumping into his car, he threw it into reverse and drove away. Distance and denial were his only concerns.

_**XxxX.**_

Pain. Sharp, intense pain.

Through the pain and the haze, the traveler realized that she was hurt. She needed to move, to find help. Struggling out of the backpack brought more pain and left her exhausted. Lying under the indifferent stars, drawing ragged breaths, the traveler gathered her will about her. She staggered to her feet.

Looking towards the road, a black fog gathered on the edges of her vision. Each toilsome step helped the fog to spread and thicken.

Less than a dozen steps brought the traveler to the center of the blacktop. Her will gave out and the fog slammed shut. The lone figure collapsed. Overhead, countless stars kept their silent vigil.

_**XxxX.**_

**I **promise the big bots will be in the next chapter.


	2. Rescue

**Rating: M** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own transformers. If I did the next movie would be in 2008 not 2009. The toys would be better, they wouldn't look like cats in the new cartoon, and I would be rich. I do own Sira and her kind.

Beta read by the awesome **I-love-me-some-leggypoo**.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Rescue**_

Optimus Prime was elated.

The first Autobots to respond to his call had arrived safely, and with supplies, no less. After making sure the supply crates were well hidden, and the new arrivals were in traveling condition, he led his soldiers to their new home.

The Supreme Commander chose secondary roads around and past Tranquility, as to not to arouse suspicion. Who would not notice the caravan led by a Peterbuilt with red and blue flames followed by a sleek yellow Lamborghini, a tricked out red Lamborghini, and the scariest black truck on two planets?

The semi crossed over the center line, blocking the red Lamborghini as it attempted to pass the larger vehicle. Only a few hours planet side and the twins were trying to break rank. This was the primary reason he had opted to avoid human settlements. The activity would draw the Twins away; never to be seen again.

"Sideswipe, back in formation." Optimus couldn't quite keep the chuckle out of his voice. It wasn't often he felt this jovial.

"Sir, I think I can shoot him in the aft," grumbled the Weapons Specialist.

"Unnecessary. Just keep them between us," the Prime responded.

"When will we be there?" whined the red sports car, doing his dead-level-best to impersonate a bored sparkling.

"Sides, you must have really missed ol' Hatchet throwing things at you", quipped the yellow brother.

"Nooooo. I just want to play with the fleshies."

"They are humans and you don't _play _with them!" admonished Ironhide.

Optimus sighed. He was actually becoming very good at approximating the human sound, and it was such a useful sound. He could express so much with that simple noise. "When we get to base you both will go through an extensive de-briefing over government structure, Department of Transportation regulations, criminal laws, civil statutes, cultural mores, social interaction with humans, and the subtleties of the dominant regional language." _And if that isn't enough to keep you out of trouble for a while, you can make cookies for Keller's granddaughter,_ Optimus added to himself.

There was a long silence while the terrible two processed this information.

"Then can I play with the fleshies?"

Before anyone could answer the Autobot Commander locked his brakes in an attempt to stop. But momentum took over and his considerable mass began to swerve out of control. The lighter back end fish-tailed onto the soft shoulder. Tires dug in the loose dirt and pivoted him into a shallow drainage ditch. He came to an abrupt and shuddering stop.

The three mechs behind him transformed into their root modes and rushed to aid their leader. After a few seconds, Optimus Prime stood up. Reaching down to un-pop a dented plate on his leg, he waved his overprotective subordinates back. Then he turned his attention a little further down the road and headed that way.

There, a few hundred feet ahead, was a figure lying in the median. The early morning sun had barely touched the sky as Optimus knelt beside the motionless woman. His huge hands carefully moved the long hair away from her face while he scanned her.

Upon standing, his blue optics searched the area. Spotting a backpack he pointed to it and Sunstreaker picked it up. His jubilant mood was shattered. The Autobot leader opened his internal comm link.

"Ratchet, this is Optimus Prime. I need your advice."

_**XxxX.**_

Pain crashed into the darkness.

A whimper escaped the woman's lips, startling the two mechs standing over her. She attempted to open her eyes, but quickly shut them again as a blinding light tried to punch through her skull. She let out another pathetic moan and moved to curl into a protective ball.

Something pinned her to the table, preventing her from moving. Panic began to swell up in her and she struggled weakly against the metal object.

"Be still." A deep voice whispered, "You will only injure yourself further. Ratchet, please hurry."

"I am. I am. Just keep her still."

The woman opened her eyes again. Nothing in her long and twisted life had prepared her for what she discovered. A huge ... thing with glowing blue eyes had its metal hand lying on top of her. A hand with fingers as large as her leg. She turned away as a scream lodged in her throat.

A smaller, chartreuse colored thing was bent over her left arm, which was laid open. Shoulder to wrist all the muscles, nerves and veins are exhibited like some kind of vivisection lesson. Most of the bones had been removed, and steel colored replacements shone in the harsh light. The fact that there wasn't any pain didn't register on her shocked mind. Her scream was choked by bile, and then blessed darkness descended.

Ratchet and Optimus looked at each other. Neither said a word.


	3. Decisions: pt 1

**Disclaimer: ** I own nothing but Sira. I make no money from this, if I did, I wouldn't drive a Kia.

**Rating: M** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

Beta read the talented **I-love-me-some-leggypoo**.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Decisions Part 1**_

Again the blackness retreated, but this time the traveler remained motionless. The only evidence of her return to consciousness was elevated brain activity and an increase in heart rate.

These changes did not go unnoticed.

She startled as a cool rag was placed across her eyes. Her hand touched it, and then her head. It felt like a demon with an ice pick and mining rights had taken up residence in her skull.

"Are you in pain?" asked a deep soothing voice.

"Yes," her answer was barely a whisper.

"My Chief Medical Officer is giving you some medication that should lessen the pain."

The traveler laid her right arm down as someone gently tugged on the I.V. attached to the back of her hand. She had had an I.V. once before. The annoying burning sensation was unmistakable. She had ripped that I.V. out in a fit of panic, something she preferred not to repeat again.

"I know I'm hurt, but I can't remember what happened."

This time a different voice answered. "We believe you were struck by a car, and abandoned without medical attention. Optimus almost ran over you. He brought you here for medical treatment. You are suffering from a small skull fracture and concussion. Your left shoulder was dislocated, three ribs and a clavicle fractured. Your left arm was shattered. I had to replace the skeletal support mid humerus to mid radius and the entire ulna. You also have a large number of deep contusions. With rest you should make a full recovery."

"Replaced?!" She yipped and pulled the cloth away from her eyes. "What do you...?"

She froze, literally. Standing over her were the two biggest ... _things _she had never dreamed of. One was chartreuse with red striping and the other was covered in red and blue flames.

Finally, the woman let out a breathe that she had been holding, "Holy shit. The tabloids were right; there really are giant fucking robots."

Optimus leaned forward. His glowing blue optics met her too wide green orbs. "Actually," he began, "We are autonomous robotic life forms form the planet Cybertron, and, as I understand the term, do not fuck."

An almost smile played along the travelers lips.

_**XxxX.**_

The traveler struggled to a sitting position and failed. She opted instead to shift to so she could look around. Ignoring the metal giants for the moment, she viewed her surroundings.

She was on a foam pad near the center of a large metal slab, easily bigger then a tractor trailer. There was a second, unoccupied table near by. The room was cavernous. She closed her eyes to try and control the vertigo. After a few seconds of listening to her heart pound in her ears, she opened her eyes. The rest of the room was a strange mix of metal, concrete and plastic. One entire wall was made out of living rock. Another wall was lined with storage lockers and a rack of tools she didn't like the looks of. The traveler glanced up. The larger...Cybertronian was watching her with intense interest, while the other has turned his back and was working with something unseen. Quickly she looked away, that piercing gaze unnerved her. She felt as if he trying to peer into her soul. Instead of looking at him, she checked herself out. Her left arm was wrapped in clean gauze from shoulder to palm. A brace kept it bent at the elbow and unmovable. Her right hand had an annoying I.V. in the back. And no clothes, just a couple of blankets.

She tried wiggling the fingers that were sticking out from the gauze. They refused to respond. "I can't move my left hand," she stated with mild concern.

The smaller of the enormous beings turned to answer her. "Nor will you be able to for some time. The bones must bond with the implants and the muscular tissue was traumatized. With time and therapy you will regain usage."

"Why am I so... calm?" she asked.

Again, the green 'Bot answered her question, "You have been given a combination of pain killers, sedatives and anti-anxiety medications. We didn't want you panicking and hurting yourself further."

She met his blue optics. "You can mix those?" she asked incredulously.

"I can." It sounded like an honest reply.

"Hmm. Good drugs. Why is it so dark in here?"

This time the big red and blue mech answered her. "We do not require much light to see by. Also the scans showed your vision to be much more light sensitive than a human's."

Her heart skipped a beat. _Oh, God. They figured it out_. No amount of narcotics could keep the tight knot of fear out of her chest.

"Please do not panic. No harm will come to you," the large mech implored as he made a motion to touch her, but hesitated.

"What are you going to do with me?" Fears of confinement filled her mind

"A representative of the United States Government is on his way to meet you. This interview will have a lot of influence on your final disposition." The gravity of the situation weighed heavily in his voice.

This spread despair into her soul. Death was preferable than to becoming a tortured experiment. "Don't let them have me", she whispered.

Upon hearing the plea, Optimus gently stroked her leg with a metal finger. The woman looked up at him, her eyes fearful and silently begging for mercy.

He felt it in his spark; he knew why she was afraid. One of his own had the same fears now. The humans may have shown the capacity for great goodness, but they had also shown the capacity for great evil as well. His trusted scout had suffered cruelly at the hands of the humans and now hid the scars. No one should be forced to endure such treatment.

The Autobot leader leaned down to her, his face close enough for her to touch.

"I will see what I can do," he promised.

Optimus quickly stood and strode out the door. Calling over his shoulder he told his medic, "Make sure the female is clothed and refueled. I have a call to make."

"Optimus, you can't be serious", Ratchet called after the retreating Prime.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N:** Hope everyone had a wonderful what-ever-winter-holiday-you-celebrate. Thank you** Nine Crow** and **Kiashi Goldbeak 501 **for the reviews. Sorry if anyone got ill on the last chappy. (Snicker). I actually edited out a lot.


	4. Interlude

**Disclaimer: ** I own nothing. Wish I did, but I don't.

**Rating: M **- Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

Beta read by the astounding **I-love-me-some-leggypoo**. She can work miracles.

_**XxxX.**_

_**First Interlude**_

The traveler wiped the steam off the mirror. She looked bad. Her skin was paler than normal. The bones of her cheeks stood out, making her brilliant green eyes seem sunken. All this combined with her bright copper hair to produce a ghastly effect.

She looked like a banshee. A premonition of death, following an unfortunate soul, wailing of future disaster. Damn, that was a depressing thought.

The mirror fogged over again. She wiped another arch clear. She still looked bad. The past few months had been hard on her. Losing her home and sanctuary had almost undone her. Everything she and her father had worked so hard for was nothing but ashes now, and most of those scattered in the lonesome wind.

Now what? The alien robots had brought her home like some stray kitten and patched her up, complete with new "bones"…structural supports in her left arm. She looked down and flexed her left hand, turning the wrist. The pain was intense, but it subsided quickly. She tried to straighten the elbow. No movement, just more pain. This was also acceptable, pushing her body beyond its considerable limits was not smart. The cost rarely out weighted the benefits.

But now what? Would they want to keep her? Was she a pet? Could she live with that? Could she live with giant robots? Too many questions. Too many "what ifs". Best to wait and see. Maybe she could bail if things got "too weird".

Like Dad always said, "No matter how bad it gets, at least they can't eat you."

She hoped he was right. The mechs were definitely big enough to eat her.

The traveler gathered the clean clothes Ratchet had given her. Yup, Ratchet, she finally remembered her manners and asked if the medic had a name. He did, and Ratchet was an overprotective-worry-wart.

He actually followed her into the showers. She never had much of a sense of modesty. Hell, she had to remember to put on clothes in the summer months, but in the shower. That was private.

"You are still unstable standing and the floor is slippery. I will accompany you in case you need assistance."

Had he not been so serious and practical, she would have balked. But at one point, she did call out for him. Her vision began clouding and dizziness overcame her. She went from sliding down the tiled wall to sitting protected in Ratchet's metal hand. Soap bubbles dripping off her and pooling in his palm.

They stayed this way until the dizziness passed and she could stand on her own. She thanked the mech, but he only scoffed at her. Now she had to go ask if he could help her with her shirt.

_**XxxX.**_

Cleaned, newly bandaged and dressed in a too large set of sweats, the traveler was reclining in a normal hospital bed. Apparently, the metal tables of the Medical Bay were on hydraulics, and could sink into the floor. Her little bed was on one of these metal slabs, dropped as low as it would go.

A human sized door sat in the larger mech sized door. This little door opened and a soldier in fatigues walked through, he carried a covered tray. Crossing the expanse of open floor and coming toward her, the man stopped only to tap Ratchet on the foot. The mech looked down and grunted. When the dark skinned man came close, the traveler pulled her knees up in front of her and wrapped the good arm around them.

A toothy grin lit up his dark face. "Oh, now don't be like that. I won't bite."

He held out the tray like a peace offering. "Hope you like meatloaf. We're on a skeleton crew and it was the Captain's turn to cook. I'm Bobby Epps."

The traveler uncurled her legs so Epps could place the tray in her lap. Then he sat on the foot of her bed.

She smiled a little smile of thanks and inspected her food. In the center of the tray was a grey lump sitting in a puddle of gelatinous something. Off to the side was a white paste. She wondered if spackle camesin boxes resembling instant potatoes.

"May the Zagats weep," she said

"You need the sustenance. The protein will give your body the fuel it needs to heal. You are underweight and anemic. Eat it," the CMO snapped over his shoulder.

Epps yelled up to the robot, " Ratch' back off. She's scared shitless. Your bed side manner truly sucks."

The offended mech turned towards the soldier. "My bedside manner has never been an issue until I started treating fragile humans." He stressed fragile.

The traveler tucked into her meal, watching the floor show with keen interest.

"Fragile!? We helped you take out the Decepticons. Hell, even Optimus is nervous when you get into one of your alien cussin', tool throwin' hissy fits. Has it ever occurred to you, you're going to blow a gasket or a hose or something?"

"What the frag is that suppose to mean?"

Back and forth the two traded insults, even congratulating each other on rather inventive obscenities, until the human sized door opened again.

A man walked through. He was of average height and of average build, wearing an off the rack average suit. He had boring hair, boring shoes and intense eyes that noticed everything. Blending into the background and always alert. To the traveler he had a neon sign over his head, blinking "HUNTER". She was familiar with the type. She saw one every time she looked into the mirror. Sitting up straighter she squared her shoulders; this was no time to look weak for another predator had entered the room.

When the man reached the foot of her bed the robot door (as she began referring to it mentally) hissed open. In came the red and blue mech from before. He was followed by an all black 'bot with beyond formidable cannons attached to his arms. This one was back up. Muscle was muscle, no matter what species.

Epps leaned forward to remove her empty tray. He whispered a soft "good luck" in her ear and left.

The boring man with intense eyes informed her that everything said in this room was being recorded.

"So, before we get started is there anything you would like to say?" he asked. She could see he was observing her every movement, trying to read her.

She sat as still as death, gathering her thoughts, knowing that her next words could decide her fate.

"Do you know you just went through a doggie-door?"

The three Autobots quickly accessed the World Wide Web.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who is reading. Special thanks to **Punk Autobot** for reviewing.

And yes **Punk Autobot**, the traveler is more than meets the eye. Now take that and run 180 degrees in the other direction. You may figure out where this is headed.

In case anyone is wondering. Yes- there is a destination. It's just a long trip. Yes- there will be pairing. Yes- the twins will return, they demand it. Yes- I am open to comments and suggestions.

Please review.


	5. Decisions: pt 2

**Disclaimer: ** Sira is mine. Everything else is not

**Rating: T** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

Beta read by the meticulous **I-love-me-some-leggy-poo.**

_**XxxX.**_

_**Decisions Pt 2**_

The large black mech made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Everyone pointedly ignored him.

The largest of the three stepped forward. "I apologize. We did not realize the implications of the door designs."

He was so serious and sincere that the traveler felt guilty for making the observation.

The colossus turned and addressed her, "This is Special Agent Simmons," indicating the man in the boring suit. "You have met my Chief Medical Officer, Ratchet. Ironhide is my Weapons Specialist, and I am Optimus Prime the leader of the Autobots. What is your designation ... name?"

The traveler sighed. Only her father and family knew her name. Names held power. They contained a piece of the soul. The foundation for self-awareness. Even children know this on an instinctive level, why does one think it is so hard to get a child to tell their whole name? To share the entire name is to share part of the soul. Only beloved family and trusted friends should share the secret of a name. But she was in a corner; her back against the wall. Alone and exposed with no one to trust, and a decision to make. She hoped she could trust him.

She looked at Optimus Prime, her green eyes boring into his glowing blue optics. Pleading with and challenging the Autobot at the same time.

"I commonly go by Patricia Ainsley. My real name is Sira dha Rul. Call me Sira."

"How do you spell that?" quipped the agent.

She shrugged, "I've never seen it written in English. Spell it however you want."

"Hmm. Well, I guess we should get down to business."

"Please do." answered Optimus, looking for all the world like this was a waste of time.

Simmons addressed Sira in a well rehearsed, if slightly annoyed manner, "As an official representative of the government of the United States of America, I would like to welcome you to Earth."

Sira's head snapped around, "Earth?"

"Yeah sweetheart, it's what we call this rock you landed on," snapped Simmons.

Before anyone could comment a yellow and black mech came sliding into the room.

"Sorry, Prime. It took us a while to find it." He apologized as he laid Sira's dusty backpack on the floor at Agent Simmons' feet. The flashy 'Bot then wiggled his fingers at Sira in a friendly greeting. Before she could stop herself Sira was wiggling her fingers back.

"Thank you, Bumblebee,' Prime said as the newcomer stepped back to stand with Ironhide.

Simmons bent down to unzip the pack. He pulled out the first thing he came across. A cotton sack that had been tied with a length of twine. He tossed the sack on the foot of Sira's bed. She jumped like something had bit her.

Optimus ran his hand down his face, "Simmons, is this really necessary?"

"Before you guys came, she'd have been stuffed in a concrete room with a two way mirror. Now, I'm stuck playing ' Welcome Wagon' to any being that decides to take a day trip to Earth. Which, according to you, is in the galactic back forty. Let me catalog her possessions, which should have already been done. But no, the advanced alien robots had to go and misplace the bag."

Sira had opened her mouth to say something about Agent Simmons's tirade, but snapped it shut, and gave the obnoxious man a cold tight lipped smile. What he didn't know could hurt him, and she really didn't care.

Reggie Simmons untied the bag and looked in. He jumped back so fast he lost his footing and slipped. The bag landed on the hospital bed between Sira's legs. Not having the option of retreat, she froze as the sack's contents freed itself.

The snake was just plain pissed off, and rightly so. For three days it had been crammed into the backpack without food or water or a rock to sun upon. Then someone unceremoniously dumped the creature into the light. It coiled upon itself, hissing in malice and hate.

Bumblebee bent close to get a better look at the legless reptile. It shook it's tail rattles and struck at the curious mech.

"Optimus Prime," Sira began in a whisper, not wanting to attract the attention of viper that was laying on her thigh, "that animal is poisonous. One bite can kill."

The great mech sighed and waved his hand in the general direction of the bed. The little, yellow Autobot reached out and gently lifted the snake. He turned and narrowed his optics at the Special Agent, allowing the serpent to dangle precariouly in his hands. An unspoken threat hung in the air. The young 'Boot then turned and left the room.

"What the Hell is that thing doing in there!" screamed the shocked Simmons.

"That was a potential meal," responded Sira as if this was the only logical answer.

Simmons glared daggers at her as he stooped over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. Sira enjoyed seeing the government employee a little... rattled.

She motioned for her backpack. Once it was sat in front of her, she held up each item and named it, as if speaking to a slow child," Map. Bottled water. Travel brochures. Three granola bars. Duct tape. Fire piston. Jeans. Sweater. Underwear. Socks. A book. My driver's license and social security card. Three hundred dollars cash. A nickel. My sword."

She pulled a two foot long blade from the pack, unsheathed it and laid it on the pile. It was blue/black in color. Double edged with glyphs running down its center. Hilt and pummel were unadorned. A simple, yet elegant in design.

"That's it gentlemen. I have nothing else in my bag of tricks."

Optimus Prime cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow ridge. Sira gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. The Autobot leader reached out and plucked the bag off her bed, curling it into his fist.

"What about the 9mm? Can you explain why you had a stolen firearm?" Agent Simmons inquired while using his Monte Blanc to flip through her meager belongings.

She shrugged, a gesture that meant everything and nothing. "Some wanna' be tried to mug me in Denver. Lets just say I gave him my own... special version of scared straight. Then I took his gun. The clip, bullets and firing pin were dropped into a creek." Her voice held a touch of humor, but her eyes held ice.

"Is he still alive?"

"He was when I left the alley. Have you seen the mortality rates on urban males of African decent? It truly is appalling." Pausing to gather herself, she softened her eyes and relaxed her body. "Seriously...guys. You have made a mistake. I'm not an alien. I was born here on terra firma. Dad raised me by himself. I graduated from James Lawrence High. Go, Cougars. I've even voted Republican. Once. I know the Star Spangled Banner by heart." Sira let a drop of desperation leach into her statements.

"Do you like apple pie?" Agent Simmons asked. He had never been one to appreciate a damsel in distress.

"Nope, can't stand it," she replied dryly.

Simmons leaned in closer, invading her personal space, making her more uncomfortable. "Where did you come from? Ratchet confirmed your DNA is not human. What. Are. You?"

Sira couldn't control the shudder that ran through her body. Fatigue and injuries were catching up. The thin veil of humanity that she wore was slipping. And she didn't really give a damn anymore. She let the veil slip. Tilting her head so the light in the room entered her eyes and bounced off the tapetum layer. This gave her pupils an iridescent glow no human's had.

"This planet has held life almost from the moment it formed. Arrogance has led humans to believe that they, alone, are sentient. Many races have come and gone on this world, Agent Simmons. My mother's people had a written language before your simian ancestors ever climbed out of the trees. Fear not, Homo sapiens has proven its superiority over all the creatures of the earth and sea. Your kind breeds rapidly and annihilates anything that might challenge you for planetary supremacy. Your species is more likely to become extinct from its own stupidity then anything a few ... remnants could do."

She smiled a bitter smile, exposing her inch long fangs. "So, what say you? Am I threat to national security, corrupting the sanctity of the American life? A danger to little kids and puppies everywhere? Or am I just a weary traveler trying to live out her days in peace?"

"You are one haughty bitch, and you could really ruin a man with those nashers." The agent turned to address the Autobot Commander. "O.P., she is all yours and I'm glad. I wouldn't want to spend my time baby sitting. I'll make sure this get buried along with everything else. New I.D. and Social will arrive in about a week. Now everyone play nice and no biting." Agent Simmons headed for the door.

"Thank you," Optimus Prime called after the retreating figure. Simmons held up his hand in acknowledgement.

Sira just sat there. Stunned. She felt like someone had just changed the TV channel while she blinked and expected her to follow along. But this wasn't TV.

"What just happened?"

Ratchet chuckled at her bewilderment. " What is going to happen is that you are going to receive another dose of medication while Prime explains that you are now under his jurisdiction."

"You have jurisdiction?" Sira asked, still trying to wrap her thoughts around the sudden shift of events.

The great red and blue mech knelt beside her bed. "I'm not sure if jurisdiction is the appropriate English term. The government has categorized us as refugees, but has allowed us to govern ourselves. When we realized that you were not fully human, I called the Secretary of Defense. We came to an agreement. You could stay here while you recovered from your injuries, but I had to assume full responsibility for you actions."

The words were kindly spoken, but the full meaning of them was not lost. Sira understood what she was being told and asked at the same time. It scared her, but it also gave her a glimmer of hope.

"I won't let you down," was all she could say to the being that had just saved her life.

"I didn't think you would," came his solemn reply.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: ** I hate this chapter. It has yet to come out like I wanted it to, and for this I apologize. Think of it as a tool booth on vacation: you have to go through it to get to the fun stuff. I am leaving clues to Sira's nature, which will be revealed later on. 10 Points to anyone who figures it out. Sorry about the snake. Had to close a plot hole (see chapter 1)

**Etc:** To **Elariel**- Hope this chappy clears up some things. To **Punk Autobot**- Glad you liked the last chapter. I have no idea where it came from. That was not in the drafts. To **everyone else**- Thanks for reading. Please review: good, bad or indifferent.

**Notes:** Sira  Anglicized version of the Arabic name Siraj. Meaning light or beam.

dha Rul complete and total rubbish.

tapetum Layer in the eyes of nocturnal animals that aids in night vision. Also produces

eye shine


	6. Dreams

**Rating: T** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

**Disclaimer:** Don't own, but would like to

Beta read by the extroridanry** I-love-me-some-leggy-poo.**

_**XxxX.**_

_**Dreams**_

Sira spent the rest of her day curled up in bed, floating along on the pharmacopoeia cocktail Ratchet had given her. She lazily watched the mech as he went about his business.

Aliens from outer space she could understand. The whole concept of other life forms was... familiar. But the little grey men descriptions she scoffed at, like she scoffed at the whole Bigfoot phenomenon; those things just didn't exist.

At least her aliens weren't into probing.

All her life she had been taught to hide, blend in, and not to draw attention to herself. Remain aloof and watchful; learn the human's ways and emulate them. Know your enemies, but humans weren't truly her enemies, nor were they her allies either.

Her father kept her away from other children until he was sure she had an ironclad control of her urges. He feared a simple game would turn into a slaughter if her instincts took over. It wasn't until she was an adult that she realized he would have executed her if she had spilled innocent blood. He had also taught her to fear the government. For it was the governments' duty to keep the people safe. People were panicky and high strung. It took very little to turn educated executive types into a mindless mob. And people ran the government.

Now, the government knew of her existence, and didn't seem to care. She wasn't stupid. She knew better then to openly display her...differences. But it still bothered her. For almost three thousand years, man kind has been trying to find where her people lived. Prove they existed; take their knowledge, and possibly eradicate them. Now here she was, and no one gave a flying fuck. She looked at the yellow-green Autobot; it was obvious why the military didn't give a rat's ass about her. Why bother with a degraded race when you had giant robots from outerspace? She could live with that.

Earlier Sira had started asking Optimus Prime questions, but he just rubbed her leg and said they would talk later. What do you say to the leader of an advanced civilization? Why would they want to take her in? Was there anyway she could pay back the generosity? Where the hell was she anyways?

Around and around Sira's thoughts swirled until finally exhaustion took over and she drifted off to sleep.

_**XxxX.**_

She didn't know what time it was when she awoke. The med bay was dark and silent. Only the glowing screen of Ratchet's computer broke the inky blackness.

Sira was able to make out the form of the medic. He was lying on the other table; his optics dark. The only evidence he was alive was a so soft mechanical whirring every few minutes, and she had to strain to hear it.

Oh, she knew they were alive, and not some well programmed automaton. They gave off energy, power. Not the cold electricity that ran the vacuum, but the warm crackling vitality of life. The same power she felt when she laid in the middle of a forest. The same power the sun graced the earth with. The same power that turned the cosmos. The power of creation, and only living things held that power.

Sira looked over at the supine CMO, and couldn't resist. It had been so long, the situation perfect and the temptation too great. She had to see.

She relaxed her body, cleared her mind, and just let go. Her own energy slipped out just a little. She sent it creeping toward the recumbent Autobot. The energy slipped between armor plates, traced along almost microscopic circuitry. A feather soft touch on his sensors.

It took less then a breath for Sira to find what she was seeking. It lay with in the medic's chest.

In her minds eye it glowed a clear robin's egg blue. Flickering like a flame and arcing like electricity. It was beautiful, giving off warmth and radiance. This was the center of Ratchet. His soul, but not a soul. She had never seen anything like it. It was alien and beautiful.

Sira resisted the urge to touch. Touching could lead down the dangerous paths of the gods. Only the gods should know what lay within someone's soul.

She pulled her power back. Shutting the mental doors she had opened and allowing sleep to claim her once again.

Sira never saw Ratchet's optics flicker to awareness. He watched her the rest of the night.

_**XxxX.**_

Please read and review.

**AN:** Holy cow!! Over 200 hits in less than 24 hours. I don't know if that is good, but I am happy. As a thank you here is an early post. It's short. To **Punk Autobot** - glad you liked the last chapter, I rewrote it 6 times. To **Ladyofthebookworms **and **Elariel** - so close yet so far. To **Fennecfox03** - here you go


	7. Settling In

**Disclaimer:** Don't own. Never will. No money. Just having fun.

**Warnings:** Actually none for this chapter.

Beta red by I-love-me-some-leggy-poo. I so owe her...big time.

**XxxX.**

**Settling In**

Optimus Prime strolled into the Medical Bay. He saw Sira sitting on the edge of an examining table. Her hair was still damp from a shower and Ratchet was adjusting a sling for her arm.

This surprised him. Gone were the bandages and metal brace his medic said she would have to wear for several weeks.

"Your condition has improved," the big mech said.

Ratchet looked up from his task. "It seems your... stray... has a few surprises. Would you like to explain or shall I?" The little female was giving the chartreuse medic a mock snarl.

She turned her attention to Prime. "Under ideal conditions, I can recover from injuries pretty fast."

"And what are these ideal conditions?" prompted Ratchet.

She shrugged that enigmatic shrug, "Not dying outright is good. Receiving medical care helps, but a lot of rest is most important. Basically, if I can hole up and sleep for several days most injuries will heal."

"Optimus, her body is using a huge amount of energy to repair itself. Her metabolic rate is three times that of a human's. By the end of the week she will be completely recovered. Look." Ratchet gently straightened her left arm out and turned it so the Autobot leader could see the long pink scar starting at the center of her palm and disappearing under her shirt sleeve. The scar disfigured her pale skin; pulling and tugging at the flesh. The sight of it filled Optimus with guilt. He and Ratchet had done to her.

"I'm sorry." Was all he could say.

Sira turned her gaze away from him.

"You remember waking up during the surgery don't you?" he asked somberly.

She looked at Prime. "Ratchet explained that the surgery was necessary to save my arm. I want to thank you." She would never tell them of the nightmares that have been plaguing her. Like she needed anymore fuel to feed her tormented dreams.

Optimus broke the silence . "Would you like breakfast and then tour the base?"

"Heavens, yes. I've been up only two hours and I'm bored out of my mind," Sira responded a little too enthusiastically, but it helped ease the tension in the room.

The red and blue mech held out his hand to her. Sira just looked at it in confusion.

Optimus curled his first digit and uncurled it a few times. He had seen the humans do this to bacon to one another. Still the little femme just stood there.

"Get on," he requested with a hint of exasperation in his voice.

"Oh, can't I just walk? Stretch my legs a little?" she asked looking at the huge hand nervously.

Optimus cycled his vents in a sigh. _ Primus why were femmes so difficult? _

"No, you are still convalescing. Sit in my hand. Please."

Sira gingerly stepped onto the enormous palm. Sitting down, she curled her legs under her.

**XxxX.**

Optimus carried his little "stray" down the long hallway. Referring to a sentient being as you would a homeless domesticated animal had to be insulting, but it just fit. He would never tell his stray that, though. He was familiar with femmes. And no matter what size or species, a femme was a challenge if she liked you and if she didn't, it could be physically painful.

The Autobot leader explained how the United States government gave them the airfield and the surrounding ten square miles as a "thank you" for defeating the Decepticons at Mission City. Prime told her about the treaty, giving him and his people the right to govern themselves, in a sense making the airfield a country within a country.

He also told how they immediately started tunneling underground. This way they could expand to fit their needs unnoticed. The base was also deep enough to withstand a Decepticon assault, giving them a safe place to live and recharge.

Whenever the Autobots needed supplies, they would barter. Currently, the U.S. military was supplying raw materials in exchange for fortifying the nation's communication grid. Sira wrinkled up her nose upon hearing this. To her the deal stank, but she didn't say a word.

Prime began the tour in a circular room with a bulls-eye pattern painted on the floor. From there he went methodically through the base. First they entered the Operation Center, with its rows and banks of monitors. He stopped and tapped a few keys, glancing at the information it produced. Optimus looked down at the woman sitting in his hand. She had leaned forward resting most of her weight on her good arm. The flat light of the screens lit up her face as her eyes danced across the data streams.

"What is all this?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Perimeter sensors, power out put, air flow, refrigeration, water quality. These record anomalies from weather stations around the world."

"Weather stations?"

"The military has denied us access to their satellites. With them we could better watch for more Cybertronians nearing the Earth, but as it is we can only detect disturbances made during atmospheric entry." The disapproval was heavy in his voice.

Prime redirected Sira to a different set of monitors. "These maintain a link with Teletraan-1. It allows us to amplify and bounce our own signals deeper into space. The Ark is in a powered down state. Only the shields and communications array ore online."

The mech turned and left the room, the door hissing shut behind them.

Optimus showed Sira his office; a sterile space with a gargantuan desk, matching chair and a computer. Next came the Rec Room, a Conference room, the human barracks and Autobot quarters. Every room was designed to accommodated both mechs and humans. The human spaces were on ledges about twelve feet off the ground with stairs giving access. Obviously this was to keep humans out from under the feet of the 'Bots as much as possible and bring everyone a little closer to eye level. The rooms were deigned for utmost efficiency. Clean and uncluttered, except for the Recreation Room, which looked like a Game Stop and pool hall had mated, produced offspring and simultaneously exploded.

Finally Prime took Sira to the place she most wanted to go ... the Commissary.

As they approached, on one wall someone had painted, "Communal Refueling and Organic Matter Consumption Area" in ornate lettering. There was even an arrow to point the way. The mech just shook his head.

"I take it that isn't supposed to be there." She asked

"No."

"At least some one hasn't ... renamed the showers."

The Autobot shuddered, thinking about all the possible names for that area.

As they walked through the door he smell of frying bacon assaulted Sira's nose. It was almost enough to make her lay back in ecstasy. Her stomach sounded like it was going to chew its way out. She didn't realize how hungry she was. Optimus deposited her on the people ledge and went to sit next to Ratchet at a mech sized table.

Sira wove her way through the tables to sit at the bar dividing the area. On the other side was a kitchen that would make the best restaurants envious. She counted three convection ovens, at least ten burners, several sub-zero freezers, a dry pantry, sinks, dishwashers, wine refrigerators and anything else one would need to stock the most perfect kitchen. You could feed an army with this setup.

Sergeant Epps was furiously working over the burners. "What'll ya have? I've made pancakes and bacon."

"Well, I guess I'll have the pancakes and bacon," she said in mock seriousness. "Where is everyone?" she asked as an afterthought.

"Captain Lennox is home with his family. Both McCormick and Stevenson are on patrol. Koehn is apartment shopping, and I'm here. Sister-in-law's visiting and I refuse to go home." He placed a cup of coffee in front of her.

"That's it? There are only five of you? All this for five people?"

"Five of the military's finest, six Autobots and you. When the Big Guy decorates he spares none of Uncle Sam's expense," the sergeant joked as he put a plate full of pancakes and bacon in front of her.

Epps turned off the burners and came around the bar to sit with Sira. While she ate he explained Prime's vision. A place where humans and Autobots could live and work side-by-side; improving the lives of both species.

At one point Epps reached for the creamer. The sudden movement startled Sira, and she jumped off her stool, sending it clattering to the floor. She gave an embarrassed apology, as the sergeant righted her seat and then patted it in a friendly matter.

"Sorry," he started. "Prime said that you were a nervous wreck."

The soldier leaned in closer. With a conspiratorial whisper he said, "That's why there isn't anybody around. You need to get comfy, so to speak, before the rest of the crew is brought around. They can be a rowdy bunch."

Sira just nodded. She looked back where the mechs were sitting. They had their heads leaned in close together in an unheard conversation. At the same time they looked at her with narrowed optics. A drop of fear trickled down her spine.

_Get a grip_ she told herself.

The rest of her meal was spent making small talk with Epps. He showed her pictures of his girls. Told her about his first encounter with the 'Bots. Basically tried to connect with her on a personal level. She didn't have the heart to tell him she saw through the charade. His job was to put her at ease. See the army men are nice, they won't hurt you.

After finishing her meal, she tried to clean her plate. The sergeant stopped her and told her to sit back down. She refused. She would clean up her own messes. He rebuffed her by pointing to her sling.

Optimus stood and walked over to where the two organics were arguing. Helding out his hand in silent invitation; he effectively ended the disagreement. Once the femme was seated he took her away from the commissary and back to the circular room. He tapped a code into the keypad and stepped towards the middle. The hum of heavy machinery coming to life vibrated through the walls, and the floor shuddered beginning to rise. Pushing them up, while the ceiling retracted, revealing an elevator shaft. A really big elevator shaft. As the platform rose, another ceiling further up retracted. The smell of fresh air and dust filtered down to Sira, and she heard the twittering of barn swallows.

The disk came to a stop. She looked about as orange and blue birds cart wheeled and dodged through the air around them. Indignant of the intrusion in their nesting site.

Optimus and Sira were inside an empty airplane hanger. Some of the windows had been busted out and glass twinkling on the floor nearby. Rust had eaten holes in the roof overhead.

"Nice. I can see why you went underground."

The large mech chuckled. "Any changes to the exterior would attract attention. This is a secluded area, but people seeking solitude sometimes show up."

Optimus walked through the hanger door. Actually, there wasn't a door. That was laying several hundred feet away on the overgrown runway. A single terminal and control tower sat nearby. Both looked like they would fall over if the termites ever stopped holding hands. A "Condemned" sign hung by one rusty nail.

Prime chose a place in the shade of the building. He lowered his hand so Sira could step off. She began backing up as the mech maneuvered himself into a sitting position. Once she was back in his hand he rested both arms across his knees. This gave her the entire expanse of both forearms to stretch out on.

They sat in companionable silence. Looking out past the chain link fence that surrounded the airport.

"I am going to request that you do not go beyond the parameter sensors. If you need to leave the base, one of us will escort you. This is the best way to ensure your safety. You will live here, but you can travel anywhere in the lower forty-eight states, as long as an Autobot or government official is with you. To leave the country you must have permission from the Secretary of Defense. I am sure you have questions, would you like to ask them now?"

Ten million of the afore mentioned questions clamored for attention, but Sira chose what seemed like the most pressing. "Protect me from what?"

The war weary commander sighed. He told Sira about the civil war that destroyed Cybertron. He told her about his desperate attempts to stop the slaughter of his people by the Decepticons. The banishing of the All Spark, the trip to Earth, and finished up reliving the battle at Mission City.

She sat in his hands, listening with horrific fascination. Not once did she move or look away.

When he finished, Sira asked him what his home had been like. He described the wondrous towers of Iacon. The flurry of life that filled the cities and space ports. Through words alone he brought his dead planet back to life, if only for a moment.

The sun had reached its zenith and was slipping toward the western horizon when she asked, "Are you okay with this?"

Prime just stared at the little female; her copper hair catching the sunset and glowing like fire.

"I have accepted the fact that I will never return to Cybertron and that Earth is my new home."

"You said 'my home' not 'our home'. Do your Autobots know you feel this way?" Those green eyes were accented by iridescent pupils.

His voice was deep, it held ages of pain and sorrow, "My Autobots do not need to know how I feel. They need the hope of retuning home. As Supreme Commander it is my duty to give my people what ever they need to carry on."

They sat there, watching the stars become visible against the blackness of eternity. Sira didn't ask him to point out his sun. She didn't want to know which star lit up his dead home.

"Can we go in? I'm getting cold."

Optimus cupped Sira to his chest, sharing his warmth with her. He stood and walked back to the dilapidated hanger,

_**XxxX**_

**AN:** Lamborghini antics coming up.

To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Mmmmmm, no. Getting close. To **Elariel** - Also, no. I'm glad you like her ramblings. I hope they make Sira a little more real. A motivation behind her actions. To **Fennecfox03** - Glad you like the last chappy. I liked it too. To **Punk Autobot **- Sira's powers are set as to what she can and can't do. Poor Ratchet. I'm not even sure how much he knows. Only time will tell.

I hope this isn't getting boring. I promise the action is about to pick up.

Please read and review.


	8. Red And Gold

**Disclaimer: ** Ever wonder what would happen if someone forgot to use a disclaimer? Would the FBI come storming your house and charge you with felonious trademark infringement. Just to be safe. I Do Not Own the Transformers In Any Way Shape Or Form.

**Warnings: ** Of course there are warnings! The Twins are present. Foul 'Bot language.

Mild sexual humor. Stronger human language

Thank you to **i-love-me-some-leggy-poo **for correcting my mistakes. Any you find, are still mine

_**XxxX.**_

_**Red and Gold**_

It was early. The sun had barely begun its western trek across the sky. This was his favorite time of the day.

Since arriving to Earth the Autobots mimicked the human's diurnal patterns, but they staggered their recharge cycles so someone was always alert and about. He chose the early morning watch, when the base was quiet with the other Autobots deep in recharge, and the humans trying to stretch their sleep just a little longer. During the still before the day, he had his thoughts to himself.

But not today. Optimus Prime could hear voices echo down the main hallway. He was curious who had invaded his solitude and headed toward the sounds.

The intruders were in the Commissary. Stopping just short of the door; he could hear without alerting the others to his presence.

"Why do humans cry?" Sideswipe asked.

"Think of it as an emotional overload. Strong emotions cause a person to cry, a visual signal to the rest of the species about that person's mental and emotional state," Sira's velvet voice responded.

Snickers could be heard. "I didn't know humans could overload." Followed quickly by, "Are zebras black with white stripes or white with black stripes?"

She paused, "Probably black with white stripes. I've heard of all black zebras, but not of any all white zebras."

"Do you spend all day looking up useless facts?"

"Do you have to spend all day asking useless questions? And to answer your useless question, I am exceedingly well read."

_At least this was going smoothly, _the Autobot commander thought to himself. Sira had yet to be introduced or warned about the twins, and apparently she could handle herself. Optimus turned to leave.

"What's a virgin?"

"A virgin is someone who has yet to have sexual relations," came the smooth answer.

"Are you a virgin?"

_Oh Frag! _

Prime turned and quietly stepped into the room. Sunstreaker was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. When the warrior looked up, Prime placed a finger to his mouth plates, so that the golden brother wouldn't warn his red counterpart. Sunny just held up his hands in a declaration of innocence. Sideswipe had his back to the door. Leaning against the ledge in front of him, all his attention was on the woman.

Optimus could see Sira. She was sitting at a table. That mass of auburn hair hanging lose and wild; her bare feet resting on the chair across from her.

"Do I look like a virgin?" she retorted in cool, calm tones.

Optimus began creeping up n the distracted melee warrior. Very few of his Autobots knew how quiet the large mech could be. It was considered … inappropriate for the Prime to sneak up on the members of his inner circle…just for sport.

"Would you like to go for a ride?" Sideswipe queried; angling his shoulders so the light would bounce off his immaculate armor.

"Excuse me?" Sira's eyebrows arched up as the corner of her mouth began to twitch.

"We, my brother and I, have spent a long time in deep space. A…long…time, and I was wondering if you would like to participate in some inter-species interfacing. All in the name of furthering harmonious relationships and mutual understanding. Of course."

_Oh, Primus. _Optimus moved into position, now all he needed was the perfect moment. Looking at Sira, he saw she was grinning widely; rubbing the tip of her pink tongue on the point of an upper fang, and her eyes were glittering with a wicked joy. Prime was sure her expression was only encouraging the other mech.

"Are you propositioning me?" she asked in mock ignorance.

"Well, of course I'm propositioning you. You're a very petite little femme. I like petite, little femmes. Let's go for a ride."

"Sideswipe, would you even know what to do if I said 'yes'?

_Now!_

Optimus pounced. He grabbed the subordinate mech by his upper arms, securing them in place. This was for everyone's safety since Sideswipe lashed out wildly when startled.

"Explain your actions soldier!" Prime demanded, his deep baritone rolling around the room like thunder.

The bright, red Autobot couldn't decide if he wanted to defend himself, salute, or run like Megatron wanted to bond with him. He tried to do all three at once, but the vice like grip kept him from doing anything.

Sunstreaker was laughing for all he was worth. "Hey, Sides' I'm sure the petite little femme would love to see you lubricate yourself."

"Shut up you slaggin' glitch head. You were supposed to be watching the door! Excuse me, Sir."

Optimus let the smaller 'Bot go, and the twins made a hasty retreat towards the door.

"I did watch the door. Big, bad Starscream didn't get you, now did he?"

The response was unintelligible as it echoed down the hallway. This was probably for the better, as the next sounds heard were the clangs of metal striking metal.

Prime looked at Sira, and she broke out in a deep throaty laugh. He swore he could feel the sound.

"Oh, that was truly priceless," she giggled.

"Yes, it was. I'm impressed; you never even looked at me."

"When you're the bait, never look at the trap."

"Would you like to go somewhere?" he asked.

"Are you asking me to go for a ride?" Sira laughed again, winking seductively.

Prime held out his hand; ignoring the suggestive remark.

**XxxX.**

Optimus carried the woman to his office. Well, this is not what she thought he meant by "somewhere".

He put her on his desk, and then went through another door at the back of his office. When he returned he had her back pack.

"Why did you not want Agent Simmons to know about this?" Prime asked.

_Obviously fun time was over. _

"The government has a tendency to confiscate things it might find useful," she answered.

"Yes. Once Agent Simmons attempted to confiscate Bumblebee; thought he would be 'useful'. How much is in there?" his voice as serious as his optics.

Sira ticked her head to one side, trying to remember. "About thirty thousand dollars." It was an estimate.

"And the gemstones?"

Sira shrugged. Precious stones varied week by week. "I don't know. Some where between sixty and eighty thousand dollars. I would have to find a buyer first."

She reached in her pack and removed the sword. Ripping out the false bottom, she exposed her stash. She laid the cash and bag of loose stones between herself and Prime. Reaching back into the bag, she pulled out a ring. It went on her left hand.

"Is this yours or did you steal it?"

_Damn, the question actually stung. _

"Optimus, it's mine. All of it. Believe it or not, but I use to have a life, a pretty cushy life too. By trade I'm a metal smith. I made and sold jewelry, the really high end, exclusive stuff. All the stars and nouveu rich wanted an original Ainsley. It was like a status symbol. Some of my pieces sold for amounts with two commas. I couldn't have a store front, so most of my sells were over the internet. This allowed me to play up the whole angsty, reclusive, eccentric artist bit, so I could turn down social invitations with out hurting my business."

"What happened?"

"You have to understand. My jewelry was inspired by images my mother showed me. She had access to some very old manuscripts. Ancient stories, mystical symbols, really arcane stuff. Anyways, a group of occultist wanna' bes decided that I had secrets to life and death, or some such nonsense. They started trying to contact me and honestly, I wasn't concerned. Every other year or so some wacko tried to come around and cause trouble. Usually I would send my lawyer after them, and he would stop the problem. Not this group. They just changed tactics. I think they realized I am... different. One night they broke into my house. Surprising me. They had planned to force me to tell them what they wanted to know. Anyways, there were ten of them. I couldn't defend my home against that many, so I grabbed what I could out of the safe and ran. The last thing I saw were the bastards burning down my home." She wasn't about to tell Prime that ten people came after her, but only nine survived. One damned soul wound up smeared all over her study. His death bought her precious seconds so she could escape.

"Who were they?"

"A group of above average psychotics. They studied the occult. Let me clarify something to you. Not everyone who studies the occult is crazy. There are some genuine scholars. The truly educated occultist would never try something so stupid as attempting to raise a demon or human sacrifice."

The concept of human sacrifices almost made Prime's energon freeze. The abomination of killing another living being to appease a deity was evident on his faceplates. The expression almost made Sira step back. She hoped she never saw that expression turned towards her.

"Anyways," she continued, "I don't know names or who all was involved."

He leaned close to her. "I Googled "Patricia Ainsley". Your work is astounding. I can see why people would pay such high prices to own one of your creations."

Sira dipped her head in silent thanks.

"But," he continued, "Patricia Ainsley is believed to have died in that fire. The remains of one person was found, but the body was so severely mangled that positive identification proved impossible."

_Shit! Shit! Shit!_

"I am, by law, allowed to defend myself. The body belonged to a woman. She tried to restrain me while I was in my father's study. Optimus, I didn't think I was going to get out alive. So I decided to take as many with me as I could. When I fought back, the rest of the group were so shocked that they froze. I used this to get way. Does that make me a bad person?"

The great mech leaned back, his arms crossed over his chest. " No, it doesn't make you a bad peson. I understand not wanting to go down without a fight. Why didn't you go to the authorities?"

She was shocked. He didn't think she was evil. He understood why she attacked in desperation.

"I... I did go to the authorities. They were working for the cult. The police had sold out to the fucking cult. So, I ran. I figured I had enough money to start a new life."

Hells bells, it hurt talking about this. It had only been a month, and she was still raw. She understood Optimus Prime's position, and couldn't fault him. He had to protect his own first.

Eventually, he would pin her down. Demanding to be told everything. She wondered just how long his patience would let her keep her secrets. She also wondered what it would be like to have someone to share those secrets with.

The Autobot commander watched her for a few minutes. What was he thinking? Why did it always feel like he was testing her?

Finally, Prime broke the silence. "How much money do you need for supplies?"

"Supplies_?" Where the hell did that come from?_ If he was trying to keep her off balance by quickly changing subjects, it was working.

"Capitan Lennox is frequently complaining about how much his wife spends on supplies... clothing, hygiene products..." The sentence was ended with a wave of his metal hand. "You are without supplies suitable for a femme."

"Suitable for a femme? What does that mean? Yeah, I could use some new clothes and hair conditioner, but you make it sound like I'm some sort of high maintenance diva."

"I have never met a low maintenance femme," the mech stated dryly.

Sira just stood there; mouth slightly agape. She didn't know whether to be insulted or start laughing, and wondering if the lightning fast changes in mood and tone, were due to lightning fast processing, or general instability. She hoped the first.

Quickly counting out several thousand dollars, she handed the rest back to Optimus. He took the money and her bag of stones, leaving her the back pack and sword. The blade disappeared into the pack. The cash into her pocket.

A stop to medical, so Sira could retrieve her shoes, and inform Ratchet he was in charge. They were up the elevator and into the outside world.

**XxxX.**

Sira stood with Optimus in the derelict hanger. A cold north wind rattled through the rusty structure.

"How am I going to get to town?" she asked.

Optimus just stepped back. It sounded like hundreds of bolts and locks were thrown open. Then the mech just fell apart. Not actually fell apart, nothing hit the ground. Instead the pieces just rearranged themselves. Some moved to the inside, while other she had never seen, became visible from within the massive frame, all the while compacting in size. Within minutes, the final bits of a Peterbuilt semi slid into place.

"Op ... Optimus?" was all she could say. Dust motes glowed in the morning sun as they settled around the red and blue truck. She heard the familiar deep chuckle as the driver side door opened. Another voice startled her.

"You don't want to be seen around town in that old thing. I'll take you out in style." Sideswipe stared his own transformation. When he was done, a scarlet red Lamborghini Gallardo was slowly rolling toward Sira. She couldn't help but laugh as the old joke about sports cars and the size of male equipment crossed her mind. Never mind that the male _was_ a sports car and could turn her into a puddle. Best to keep that one quiet.

A golden yellow Murcielago LP640 came sliding sideways into the hanger. He stopped inches from the Semi's grill.

"And Sunstreaker."

The Autobot's engine purred seductively. It was velvet rumble that hinted of dark, dangerous things, and sent chills up her spine. Right there she decided to stay as far away from the aloof, yellow mech as she could

She ran her hand along the lines of the red sports car. He rocked on his shocks and purred with a 600 horse power engine.

"You guys look like the results of a _Pimp My Ride_ Christmas special."

She walked back to the Peterbuilt. Tracing her fingers along the flames painted in Prime's armor.

"Pity, I've never been one for the pretty boys." She said as she stepped up into the cab. Optimus shut his door and chuckled as the drove out of the hanger.

Most of the drive to Tranquility was spent in silence. Sira watched the world pass by, momentarily content in hr own thoughts.

"I'm sitting in you"

"Yes."

"No, I'm really sitting in you," Sira repeated.

"Does this bother you? My alternate form is that of a large ground transportation vehicle. It is reasonable to have someone sit in me from time to time." His dulcet tones were smooth and calming

"Can you feel me?"

"Do you really want to know the answer to that question?" The humor leaking into his words.

"Umm, no. Was Sideswipe serious when he said he wanted to interface?"

The truck sighed. "When dealing with the twins, always assume the worst. But, I do not believe that they would intentionally hurt you. Are you flattered they asked?"

"Only Sideswiped asked, and no I'm not flattered. Is it even possible?" It was an honest answer. She was by no means a prude. Some of her tastes were decidedly out of the mainstream, but sex with a twenty foot robot. Well, right now it was too early in the morning to contemplate.

"Sira, when dealing with one of the twins, you will be dealing with both. They function as a pair, always. And, I have no idea it if is remotely possible. I have not given it much thought."

The Semi pulled into the Tranquility Mall's parking area. He chose a space toward the back of the lot. His passenger just sat there. She made no move to get out.

"Is there a problem?" Optimus asked. He was actually worried that he had offended the little female. His question had been personal in nature, and all the Autobots were still trying to figure out personal boundaries in regards to the topics of mating and relationships.

"No, no problem. Are you going to be alright out here alone?" Her concern touched him.

"I will be fine. Bumblebee is on his way out here. He wants to talk with me."

Satisfied she hopped out of his cab and walked towards the mall. Sira turned back as a bright yellow concept Camaro pulled along the semi. The little car honked it horn and flashed its lights at her. She blew kisses over her shoulder and disappeared into the mall.

It took Sira exactly three hours, twelve minutes and forty-nine seconds to buy a new wardrobe. Two more short stops and they were headed back toward the airfield.

**XxxX.**

**AN: ** Thank you to all those who are reviewing. Your comments are greatly appreciated. Some have even influenced future chapters (Punk Auotbot). Yes, everyone will find out what Sira is. We just have to work up to a really nasty argument. That's all I'm saying.

Please read and review. All comments welcome. I have a lot already written. Review and I may feel motivated to post sooner. Yeah, I'm a review junkie.

If you have spare change, go out and buy the Car and Driver 2008 Models in Review. It has everything in there. 420 autos pictured and the specs are given. It is my porn. No I'm not being paid to say that.

If you don't think a woman can buy clothes that fast, you've never been shopping with my sister and me. We both hate to shop. First rule: When it fits buy it in every color. Second rule: only buy what you need.


	9. Interlude 2

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Never will be. Just playing.

**Warnings: **None. I must be slipping.

Beta read by I-love-me-some-leggy-poo.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Second Interlude**_

Ratchet knocked on the door and waited. After a few Earth minutes, he knocked again and waited . . . again. It was becoming obvious that his commanding officer wasn't in his office. The medic punched in his security code and entered.

He walked through the austere room and tossed his data pad on the desk. The vibrations caused Prime's computer to come out of "stand by" mode. The screen flickered on. He looked over and couldn't do anything but stare for the schematics held his complete attention. Leaning in for a better view, his fingers danced over the keyboard, scrolling through the pages in the data file. He became aware of another's presence.

"Here is the supply list you requested, Sir," Ratchet hurriedly stated as he moved to leave.

Optimus was blocking the door. The red and blue mech reached across the door's control panel, and locked them in the room…together.

"What do you think?" Optimus queried, gesturing towards the computer.

"I think you have blown your central processor."

Prime just patted his friend's shoulder as he walked around the desk to take a seat.

"Optimus," Ratchet began. "If the Government finds out that you have even thought about this, they will turn their entire nuclear arsenal against us. Where did you come up with such an…idea?"

"Bumblebee brought it up, and I told him I would look into it." Prime chose his words carefully. For in the end, he knew Ratchet's curiosity would win out.

"Could you please look at the designs? Tell me your honest opinion. Are they viable?"

Ratchet ran his hands down his face. This was not a place he wanted to be.

After he spent some time going over the drafts in detail, he sat back. "Some small changes need to be made, but as usual your designs are near perfect. Isn't this what Sector Seven was ultimately trying to achieve?"

Optimus leaned back in his chair. His arms resting on the desk, fingers laced. "Sector Seven was working with technology they did not understand. They had the All Spark, but did not know how to use it. We have the All Spark and the Matrix. This can be done."

"Prime, we only have a shard of the All Spark."

"The All Spark is healing itself. It is almost twice the size that it was two years ago. Perhaps in several millennia it will be whole again. Until then, we should look to other options."

Ratchet knew this; he just didn't want to be the one to deal with it. "How do you decide? The ethical implications are staggering."

"Necessity will decide," came the solemn rely.

The medic knew what his friend was about to ask. They had been too close for too long for him not to know. "When would you like for me to get started?"

"I will not begrudge you if you refuse. This is a request, not an order."

"Optimus, if I said no, you would continue on with this asinine idea anyways. Later, you would ask me to fix one little problem. I'd say 'yes'. In fixing that one little problem, I would discover countless others. When I finally got done I would have rebuilt the slaggin' thing from the floor up. No, I'll start now and get the thing built correctly the first time."

"I thought you said that my plans were perfect?"

"Oh, they are. It's your execution that is sometimes lacking."

Optimus was well aware of his strengths and weaknesses. He several of his Autobots had given him similar speeches over the vorns. He called up two diagrams and showed them to the medic.

"Start with these as soon as possible. And Ratchet, thank you."

The CMO looked at his leader and said, "You realize the humans have a saying, 'the road to Hell is paved with good intentions'."

"If this is true, then we were all damned at the start of this war."

_**XxxX.**_

**AN:** Don't worry if you are confused, all will become clear, my children.

**To Happyhedgehog** - welcome aboard. Glad you like the story. Good guess, but wrong. The clues are subtle and easily over looked. **To Punk Autobot** - Don't worry, Sides' isn't really into any female. He's just a brat. Looking for buttons to push. When your chapter is posted I'll note it for you. **To** **Fennecfox03** - Trouble just follows Sira around. Unfortunately it's only going to get worse for her. Do you think she would hide out with a bunch of oversized robots if everything was cherry? **To** **Ladyofthebookworms** - When my mom goes shopping with me, a simple trip to buy a pair of pants turns into something of Olympic proportions. And she always wants me to buy something flowery and not black. **To All My Loyal Readers -** I have finished a picture of Sira. After the big reveal, I'll post the link.

**I hope you read and review. **


	10. Fire and Light

**Disclaimer:** I own Sira. Anything else is property of some really rich people.

**Warnings:** Language, alcohol consumption.

Beta read by **I-love-me-some-leggy-poo**

_**XxxX.**_

_**Fire and Light**_

Crap, it was cold!

Colder than a well diggers ass. Colder than a witch's titty. Colder than what ever colorful analogy came to mind. It was just plain cold! Sira didn't want to be sitting outside, in the middle of winter, holding a beer. These people were certifiable! Couldn't that over grown pile of scrap parts named Optimus Prime, get it through his Commador-64, slow ass, processor that she hated the cold!

She had been very content sitting in the Rec room, curled up with a glass of merlot and a tattered Kurt Vonnegut novel; where it was warm. Then that flame painted monstrosity had to ruin her evening.

"Why are you not at the Sandhill meeting?" he asked.

"I don't do bon-fires with gun touting, army types. Not really my scene. Thanks for the invite though," she said without taking her eyes off the book.

He knelt down just a few feet from her. "You are expected to go. The others have requested to meet you." His tone gave little room for an argument.

"You can't make me," she challenged back.

Those cobalt blue optics glowed with mild amusement. The tension in the room shifted and Sira didn't like it one bit. She bolted. Over the back of the sofa with inhuman grace and speed, she headed towards the door, wine and book forgotten. She made it three steps before the metal hands surrounded her. It wasn't fair when your opponent had a fifteen foot reach.

Now here she was out in the cold…literally. Sitting as close to the fire as she could get, without setting herself ablaze.

At least someone had brought marshmallows.

She held the stick in the fire; torching the little ball of puffed sugar. As soon as the entire thing was covered in carbon she would blow it out. Carefully she removed the char and ate it, leaving the raw, white interior for another scorching.

Bobby Epps sat near her and introduced the rest of the military men. The conversation was strained and cautious. Neither side made any sudden moves or loud noises for they were all aware that the other could be an enemy. It was this way until the Witwicky boy and his impossibly beautiful girlfriend arrived.

_Wonder what he did to get her? _Sira thought to herself.

"Wow, your eyes glow in the dark!" Mikaela slapped Sam in the arm. Obviously, it wasn't his eloquent conversation abilities that had attracted the girl.

Sira gave a little bark of nervous laughter. "Actually, my eyes don't glow. They reflect light."

"Oh. Optimus told everyone that you weren't human, and I kinda' thought…well…you look so normal." he stammered.

God bless the child, he was so socially awkward that it hurt. She took some pity on the uncouth kid, and decided to help him out.

"Technically, I'm a hybrid. My father was human, and I look like him, _a lot_." Perhaps if she cleared up some questions, everyone would relax a little. The tension from the soldiers was making her head hurt.

"Cool, do you have mutant powers or superhuman abilities?" the teen asked.

"Mutant powers?"_ Oh, hell._

"You can see in the dark, right?" he asked. Charging ahead with the gusto and innocence only the young could possess.

"Yes," Sira drew the word out suspiciously.

"So do you have super hearing too?"

_Someone needed to stay away for the comic books. _"I have very sensitive hearing and smell. Similar to a cat or dog. I can smell _you_ underneath the Calvin Klein cologne."

Sam's eyes opened wide. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Do I stink? I took a shower."

"No, no. You don't stink. It's just a natural smell. Everyone has a different odor. Nothing offensive, just a smell."

The lad look visible relived that he didn't have B.O.. She refused to laugh at his expense, but it was getting hard not to.

"How do you smile without showing your . . . ?" Sam pointed to his teeth.

"A lot of practice. Anymore questions?"

"Are you super strong?"

"No."

"Super fast?"

"No, but I can out run most humans. I have quicker reflexes and better co-ordination, but a well trained person could stomp my ass." That was the truth. She was an ambush hunter, relying on surprise to bring down an opponent, and she was very proud of her efficiency in that regards.

"Are you indestructible?" the boy wanted to know.

"Shit, no. I've had more broken bones, cuts and scrapes to count. Actually, I'm pretty sure that one of these Army Rangers could quickly 'neutralize' me."

"So basically, you're not human, but you don't have any special abilities."

_Oh, the boy may be hiding a brain. Kudos to the girl if he is_.

"Yeah, that's it in a nut shell." _Like I would tell you any differently. You don't want to know what I know. Be happy groping your girl in the dark. _

She took a long breath, inhaling the heady combination of smoke, fresh air, human musk and metal. The night was clear and cold or not, she wanted to go hunting. She belonged out there in the dark, not huddled around the fire. Perhaps, she should tell this ragtag group why humans seek refuge near the fire, but this would not win her any friends. Right now, she needed these people to be her friends. It would just make things easier.

Sira startled when Lennox grabbed her shoulder and handed her another beer. She smiled at the Captain, remembering to play nice.

It was Mikaela that asked the next question. "Who was your mother?"

Sira took a long drink of her beer. _In for a penny, in for a pound. _"My Mother's people never really had a name for themselves. They only used a word meaning 'Us'. Understand that humans are not the first sentient species to have evolved on this planet. There have been others. It's just that mankind has been the most successful: easily adaptable, obnoxiously tenacious and virulent breeders. Look into your own mythologies and you can see a glimpse of those that lived during the dawning of your species. My people hide in a great temple deep within the earth. We didn't build it, and we haven't figured out who did. The oldest scrolls in the library have detailed drawings of dinosaurs, but the text is indecipherable. Anyways, the temple is filled with knowledge. Ancient, archaic, terrible and wondrous, a person could spend their lifetime in study and only scratch the surface. Experience only a crumb of the power stored there."

"Power?" It was Bumblebee's question.

"Knowledge IS power. One man's science is another man's magic. If you Autobots had come to Earth only a scant two hundred years ago, you would be seen as demons. Something to be feared and destroyed. Jump forward two hundred years and you are still feared, but you are not demons. You are an advanced civilization, not mythical beings." She looked around, all eyes were on her. Pity she could never be a teacher. Her father always said she had a gift to counsel and guide others. Part of it was natural ability, part of it was years of studying people and their motivations.

"Was your mother beautiful?"

Sira couldn't help but get nostalgic, "Yeah, she was beautiful. Tall, athletic, silver eyes, white hair. She could command a room with a glance."

"I bet she was proud of you."

"Actually, Mikaela, my mother didn't have a lot to do with me. She was married to someone other than my father when she became pregnant. When I was born, it was…a little obvious who my daddy was. Caused quite a scandal, from what I have been told. Anyways, my father wouldn't let me leave his sight. Mom's rightful husband had made some vile threats towards me, and dad was afraid the bastard would try to carry them out. When I turned ten we left the Temple. Dad had had enough. After drifting around for a few years, we settled in the Appalachians."

"That explains why you draw out some of your vowels," commented Epps.

"Where's the Temple?" someone else asked.

She just waggled a finger at them, and started a third beer. Her throat was dry for talking and the smoky air. Some secrets, she could not tell.

Optimus stepped onto the top of the hill. An orange, flickering glow from the fire seemed to ignite his flame covered armor. Deep blue optics glowed in the night. The Autobot leader had become an elemental god. A warrior of fire and light; something to bow down to.

Prime cleared his voice, and everyone waited in silence.

"I have received communications from three of our fellows. Prowl, Hound and Wheeljack will arrive in the solar system within two Earth months." He held up his hand to forestall any reactions. Strangely, the mechs gave the CMO sideways glances; if any of this meant anything to him, he gave no indication.

"Prowl has also informed me of a small group of Autobots hiding in a nearby star system. He and Hound are going to rendezvous with the Ark. From there they will be taking the ship to rescue the others. This should increase our numbers to around twenty individuals. Also, Wheeljack has sustained injures. He is coming directly to Earth for repairs."

Fierce celebration followed the good news. Loud music, yelling, horrific dancing, laughing and a few wrestling matches ensued. This was from the mechs. The organics were just as rowdy, only on a smaller, drunker scale. Partying lasted well into the night. Sira drank until she could ignore the ringing in her ears caused by the ruckus, and sought shelter near the leader of the Autobots.

_**XxxX.**_

He watched from a distance.

A dark spot in the dark night. Fully cloaked, he was practically invisible. Every sensor, gear and circuit twitched in his frame as the urge to lay waste to the group around the fire was almost too much.

But such an action would be suicidal. Five seasoned warriors and the Prime against him. The battle would be short, terminal and accomplish nothing for the Decepticon cause.

So he watched the disgusting display of frivolity. Taking note of the mechs and human military present. The organic femme leaning against Prime's foot was also of interest.

_**XxxX.**_

**AN:** **Ladyofthebookworms**- Again thank you for pointing out my horrendous errors earlier. I have three more chapters finished and one maybe two after that to find out. It depends on the characters. I just finished a future chappy and the twins showed up at the end. I'm not adding thing to frustrate you. The time line was established before I ever started writing. To** Punk Autobot**- Oh, yeah. Prime just initiated a major plot turn. And if you can't stand the cliff hangers now, you will hate me later.

**Please Read and Review. Even if it just to say WTF.**


	11. Messangers of the Dead

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. I promise to clean everybody off when I'm done playing.

**Warnings:** The usual. Strong language and angst

Beta read by **I-love-me-some-leggy-poo**

_**XxxX.**_

_**Messengers of the Dead**_

When the letter arrived, it just appeared. A creamy brown parchment, hand folded, and weighted down by a large, clear crystal. It laid in the dust of the abandoned airplane hanger, conspicuously placed next to the camouflaged control panel for the elevator.

No name, no return address, and no postage. Just a solitary symbol drawn on the front. Lennox thought it looked like a tulip. Ironhide pointed out it resembled the Cybertronian symbol for "shiny". Sunstreaker saw a stylized flame.

Optimus Prime didn't really care what the symbol meant. He wanted to know how someone made it through all of the security measures, and dropped the envelope on their doorstep. Sitting in Central Ops he reviewed several hours' worth of footage from no less than five security cameras.

There! The letter appeared next to the underground bases entrance. He slowly backtracked the video. A swallow flew backwards across the screen, blocking the camera's view. The bird was gone and no envelope.

He advanced the recording one frame at a time. A swallow came into view. It blocked the image for one, two, three frames before it flew out, and there was the letter.

Optimus checked the time stamp. He went to the other cameras. One was pointing the wrong direction, another one was blocked by a leaf caught in a spider's web. The final two were also blocked by birds flying in front of the lenses.

So some unknown party made it past the two different lines of perimeter sensors, convinced three birds and a leaf to block the cameras for little less then half a second, so that same someone could leave a letter. Optimus was sure he was going to be the first of his kind to develop a migraine.

He heard the door hiss open behind him. A smell of spices and leather tickled his olfactory sensors.

"Sira," he greeted without turning around.

"What's going on? Everyone's edgy, but no one's talking."

The Autobot commander held the envelope out to show the woman, "It seems someone left this for us to find, and didn't trip any of our intruder alarms in the process." The frustration was heavy in his voice.

He heard the woman's sharp intake of breath. "That's…for me."

Prime looked around. He narrowed his optics as he handed her the letter.

"You'll never figure out how Roke left the letter. No one has been able to figure out how he does it. Once, I was hiking in the Adirondacks, and a letter was waiting for me on the trail." Her voice was as shaky as her hands.

Sira turned to leave. Prime called out to her, "All of our cameras were blocked by swallows."

She stopped and looked at the great mech. Her face held surprise and then resignation. "In the ancient days, swallows were the messengers of the dead," she said flatly. Sira turned and walked out of the room.

Optimus closed down the programs he was working with and went after the enigmatic female.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira sat at the edge of the fire pit, carving designs in the cold ashes. Next to her several pieces of parchment flapped in the wind; angry at the stone that kept them pinned to the earth.

She didn't have to look behind her to know who approached. Twenty-eight minutes. It took twenty-eight minutes for him to catch up to her.

"Go away, Prime," her tone as cold as the rocks around her.

"The temperature is almost thirty degrees, and you are without winter clothing."

Her new fur coat landed in the dirt next to her. She said nothing, only wiped the tears from her face with the heel of her hand.

"You have become emotionally distressed. What has happened to cause this?" the Autobot asked.

"Go away. It's not your concern." she snapped.

"When one of my people becomes this distraught, it is my concern." Optimus wasn't sure where any of this was coming from, but he intended to find out.

"Your people? None of your people are involved. Roke is _my _cousin, and _this_ is a private matter."

"You are one of my people," he stated in calm soothing tones.

Sira jumped up face the towering mech. A snarl exposing her long, white canines. "I'm not one of your people!" she screamed. "I'm just a charity case! Something you pity! Does having me around make you feel all warm and fuzzy about yourself?"

"I have never considered you a charity case," Prime snapped back.

"Oh, so what am I? A toy? A pet to keep under your thumb? Because that's where I've been for weeks! Every step I make someone is watching over me! I can barely take a shower alone! If it's not you, It's one of your fucking 'Bots. If not them, than it's the fucking military! This may shock the shit out of you big guy, but I am capable of taking care of myself, without you playing wet nurse!"

Sira threw an arm out, sweeping it to encompass the countryside around them. "You know what this is, Optimus? It's a preserve. A zoo! A sanctuary for endangered species! Hell, throw in a few black-footed ferrets and a couple of whooping cranes, and we'd be in excellent company. Can't you hear the ads? 'Come tour miles of unspoiled scenery. See the last of their kinds. Feed the big black one and maybe he'll show you his cannons!''' She dropped to her knees. Tears flowed freely as hard sobs racked her body.

He had weathered her storm, and now he watched. His spark ached for the femme, wanting to take her pain and anger; unsure if the comforting touch these organics craved so much would be welcome.

"Sira, what has happened?" He was truly concerned.

The distraught woman adjusted herself to a sitting position. She didn't answer him, only stared out to the distance.

"Sira, talk to me. Please."

She looked at him; her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Shoulders dropped in defeat. He could see the pale skin was blotched with color and trembling lips turning blue with cold.

"They are all gone." The blowing wind threatened to drown out the quite words.

"Who are all gone?" He was slowly reaching for her coat; hoping to wrap it around her shoulders before she noticed.

"My people," came the whispered reply. "My…my cousin wrote the letter. Its pages of ramblings; not his usual eloquent pose. The fever was affecting his thoughts." She paused, crying gently. Optimus slipped the chocolate colored fur around her, and stroked her back with one finger.

"Roke said that the Bleeding had returned to the Temple. He lost his mate and newborn son," she drew a ragged breath. "When he wrote this only three of them were left alive. They were showing early symptoms of the disease. They sealed themselves in, with the dead, and were going to...cleanse…" quiet sobs stole her ability to continue.

"Cleanse?" Prime asked.

"Fire cleanses all things," she quoted from a long forgotten source.

"Do you need to return home?" he asked.

She shook her head. "The Bleeding is contagious to humans. I cannot risk spreading it just to say 'good bye'."

Sira stood, her hair whipped around her in the wind. "I'm the last. I look forward, towards the rest of eternity and see it empty. Never again will I hear someone else speak my language. Gone is my Roke. My cousin, best friend and confidant. There is nothing left. Optimus, I hope you never have to stand upon this precipice and see only a void where your kind should be."

_I fear I may be standing with you and don't realize it _he thought to himself_._

"Your core body temperature is becoming dangerously low. I need to get you inside to warm up."

Sira ignored his concern. She reached down and scooped up a hand full of spent ashes. She spoke in a low guttural tone, and tossed the ashes into the air. She used her will to ignite each and every one of them. The wind scattered a million tiny stars before they burned themselves out.

Prime watched in silence. Hoping he was one with the Matrix long before his people were reduced to a solitary individual.

"Come, you need to get warm."

"I don't want to go back. Not right now."

He handed her the battered backpack he had been holding and transformed. Opening his door, he asked her to get in. She did so without comment. He drove away from the base, planning to intersect a secondary road.

The rune covered parchment paper fought against the stone, demanding freedom upon the wind.

_**XxxX.**_

**AN:** To **Punk Autobot **- This is for you. Your comments about Sira not wigging out inspired this chapter. I dedicate this to you. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - I know you don't hate me. Patience. I am writing as fast as I can. It's coming. To **fennecfox03** - be afraid, be very afraid. To **ninja-pirate-alchemist **- (NPA) from here on out. Glad you like my twisted tale. Here is your up date. To **all my readers **- please be patient. I planned to use this past weekend to write, but my eldest decided to split the back of his head open. We spent Saturday at the ER. He's okay, just lots of stitches. I'm behind, here and in real life.


	12. Encounters

**Disclaimer:** See all previous disclaimers

**Warnings**: See all previous warnings

PLease read and review.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Encounters**_

He drove for her. Neither had a destination in mind, so he just circled around the area. On the interstate, off the interstate. Through the surrounding towns and countryside. He didn't think she cared where they were at, only as long as they were away.

Sira sat statue still in his cab. Her coat wrapped around her in an attempt to drive away a coldness that had nothing to do with the weather. She stared out into the gathering darkness. The glomming. The time of day when the relentless sun yielded its grip upon the land, and let darkness, with its innumerable stars, tint the sky. This was her favorite time of day. The time when she felt most alive, but now she felt half dead.

In the last couple of months, her life had been shattered. There was truly nothing left for her to piece back together. If it wasn't for the Autobots, she wouldn't even have a place to go.

Safe within his cab she allowed herself to feel the loss of her world. She cried until she couldn't cry anymore. So she just sat. Thankfully her mind was as spent as her emotions, and she couldn't form a coherent thought. The gentle thrumming of Optimus' engine had almost lulled her to sleep.

"You are a friend."

"What?" she startled. The Autobot hadn't said a word during most of their trip.

"You wanted to know if you were a toy, or a pet. You are neither. I consider you a friend."

Sira wiped her eyes. His simple words had wrung out a couple of tears.

"I am sorry for your loss. I cannot and do not want to imagine what you are going through, but I am here for you." His words were calming. She could feel the concern he had for her. She wondered how many of his own he had lost.

"Thank you." Was all she could say without crying more.

Prime pulled into a truck stop. They sat under a sign that blinked "Open 24 Hours." The blue neon turned the inside of the cab a sickly color.

"Optimus, I'm sorry. I said some nasty things back there. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you."

"I would rather you take your wrath out on me than yourself. I will be honest; I am deeply concerned about your mental state. I have seen 'Bots offline themselves for less. And some of what you said is accurate. I have kept you under my thumb. That is were I keep those I care about. You will probably continue to remain there.'

Sira smiled a tiny smile, but it did nothing to push the pain and sadness from her eyes. She patted the dash, and gathered her resolve around her. Opening his door, she headed to the truck stop.

He watched her walk away. The wind whipping her coat around her legs. He knew she couldn't take much more. She was battered and bruised, her spirit almost torn apart. Would she let him protect her? It had been a long time since he had someone close to protect.

_**XxxX.**_

Almost everyone looked up when she walked into the diner. Most of them continued to stare. Sira knew that she was a disturbing sight. A pretty lady, in a full length sable coat, looking like she had been crying for several hours. Yeah, that would cause people to stare.

She hurried to the women's restroom, and locked the door behind her. After removing the coat she turned on the tap. The mirror reflected not only her tear swollen eyes, but a line of soot on her right cheek. Another line of soot trailed down her neck and disappeared under her collar. Nice.

Soap, water and a lot of scrubbing removed the black evidence. It was a life long obsession, digging in the remains of fires. She smiled as she remembered her father chasing her out of the fireplace time and again. Her thoughts quickly shifted to another.

Optimus Prime: a thirty foot tall, overprotective, alien robot. Her savior and friend. She owed him everything. He had kept her, given her a place among others. No-one had ever done that for her. Her whole life she had been on the outside. Too human to fit in with her own people. Too … other to fit in with the humans. She only hoped she could pay him back half of what she owed him.

Running her fingers through her wild mane of red hair, she decided that it was time to get back to the truck.

Sira slipped her coat on, unlocked the door, turned off the lights and left.

She was standing in front of the bottled drink cooler, trying to decide what she could have without being sick. The crying had left her parched and nauseas. A firm hand touched her shoulder, making her jump.

The hand belonged to a stout, middle aged man. His expansive stomach made the buttons on his shirt pull a little.

"Miss," he starts "Is that the truck you came in?" His thumb pointing in the general direction of the camouflaged Autobot Commander.

"The blue and red flame job? Yes, he's my ride." She was polite but cautious. Not sure what the stranger wanted.

"Miss, you look awful. Has something happened? Has he been ... rough with you. I know how some men can get. You can stay in here and we'll call the police for you." The grey-blue eyes held genuine concern for her.

Sira looked around. A couple of the other men had stationed themselves by the door. The waitress, with the deep line around her eyes, had her cell phone out; ready to make the call. "No, no. I'm okay. He's not that kind of person. We're not fighting. I … I got some bad news earlier. He came here to let me use the restroom. It's fine. Thanks."

She moved to leave, but the trucker's rough hands gently grabbed her by the shoulders; keeping her in place. "Are you sure?"

He smelled of tobacco and a disease deep in his lungs. The realization that another kind soul will soon be snuffed out of existence, made Sira want to start crying again. She just patted his hand, knowing it was too late for a doctor to repair the damage.

"It's okay. Go home to your family and tell them you love them."

She hurried out of the truck stop and ran to Prime's door. He opened it without comment. Pulling out of the parking lot he headed towards home. They trailed after the sun, for it had already disappeared from view.

_**XxxX.**_

They were both lost in thought when the attack came. From out of nowhere a missal slammed into Prime's right side. The impact sent him into a swerve. The Autobot screeched to a sliding halt. Throwing a door open, he yelled, "OUT!"

Sira didn't question. She grabbed her backpack and jumped. Her ancient blade drawn and read before her feet hit the pavement. Keen eyes scanning the darkness for any signs of the attacker.

Barricade leapt from his hiding place and tore down the road. He could see smoke coming from the Prime's side. He headed toward the female at top speed. He only had seconds left. The Prime had almost completed his transformation.

Before the patrol car had reached his target, proximity alarms sounded. Slamming on his breaks, and dodging wildly, the Decepticon barely avoided the Autobot's grasp. Barricade didn't want to go one on one with the Prime. That would only have one outcome.

The shock trooper fired two more missals at the Prime and turned his attention back to the female. She hadn't moved. He accelerated. The pet was about to become a bloody smear.

Sira watched the police car come towards her, and reversed her grip in the sword. She stilled her thoughts, entering that cold, quiet place Jal had taught her about. She opened the well of power within her and waited. Her world slowed down. Nothing else existed but her and the adversary.

The Decepticon was almost upon her. At the last moment she pivoted out of the way. It was a move no human could make. Her back was to the police car as it rushed by. She could feel the hem of her coat flap against metal. She struck; plunging her blade downward and past her hip. A push of power sent to sword slicing through the living, metal armor. The vehicle's forward momentum tearing a long gash open. For that fleeting second, she could feel the mech. His hate and malice washed over and through her. She felt dirty, tainted, and then it was gone, as the sword had come free.

The police car howled in pain and anger.

A monstrous glowing sword fell from the heavens and sliced into the cruiser. The car came to a crashing halt. Prime had pinned the Decepticon near a front tire. The car shuddered and began backing up. Tearing itself apart to be free of the blade. Once free, Barricade made a hasty retreat. Severely wounded he only wanted to get away from the Autobot.

Sira looked up. Optimus had his battle mask in place. She had never seen the mask. It hid most of his face. Leaving only his brightly glowing optics visible, as he watched the rogue decepticon disappeared in the distance. He pulled his energon sword free from the highway. It left a great, violent wound in the asphalt. The smell of hot tar hung in the air as the blade transformed back into the commanders arm. His shoulder had smoke boiling out of it.

They stayed this way for a short while; Optimus gazing off into the distance, and Sira standing at his feet waiting. Finally, he converted back into the Peterbuilt. Sira climbed into the cab and collapsed. Her entire body shaking as unspent power rolled off her in waves. She was having a hard time shutting down. The day's events had left her weak, mentally and physically.

Optimus shuddered as tendrils of her energy crept along his interior. They slipped into his most sensitive circuitry. It took all he had to keep from moaning. "Sira, please stop."

Oh shit, he could feel her. She concentrated on what her power was doing to his sensors. She didn't want to cause him discomfort. It gave her a focus. She pulled her power back to her and slammed a mental lid on top.

"Optimus are you alright. You were hit …"

"That was stupid."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't know … no one's ever noticed it before." her voice was laced with panic.

He interrupted her, "It was stupid taking on Barricade. He would rip you apart just to watch you bleed. You should have run and let me deal with the threat."

She hung her head, completely admonished for reacting in the only way she knew how.

"Please, do not think that I am mad at you. I just don't want the Decepticons to hurt you, like they have hurt so many others." His words were soft and sincere.

They sat in silence as he pulled onto the road. Prime had to ignore the situation with Sira, for now. He needed to get them to the safety of the base, before his injuries caught up with him. A pair of Lamborghinis shot past them. Traveling impossibly fast in the direction of the fleeing police car.

TBC

_**XxxX.**_

**AN:** **Punk Autobot **- Glade you liked the last chappy. I was nervous about what you would think. Actually I'm always nervous when I post. To **Fennecfox03 **- Yes, it does suck. But there will be a happy ending. Thanks for reading. **To ladyofthebookworms** - love that quote. Thanks for staying with. To **everyone **- No the twins were not suppose to be in the chapter. They just showed up anyway.

Just a side note: Every time I sit down to write, my husband wants to know it that chapter involves WD-40. "It helps with metal on metal friction." He says. Yeah, he's a perve.


	13. Connections Pt 1

**Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it isn't mine. Sira is mine. If you mess with her without permission, she'll stick ya.

**Warnings: **None

Please read and review.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Connections Pt 1**_

The attack had left the Autobots frustrated. Barricade had shown his skill as a shock trooper and assassin. He had remained undetected for over two years, and then came out of the night to assault Prime. Only to fade away like some demonic shade sent back to Hell with the coming dawn.

Injured and leaking energon the Decepticon had just vanished. Sixty-two point one four miles from the sight of the attack, his trail went cold.

It was a chilling reminder to the Autobots that it was Barricade who had infiltrated one of their outposts, and killed every mech, femme and sparkling there. To make the situation even more desperate, Prime had been injured. The rogue 'Con had left the Autobot Commander with a seriously weakened shoulder.

Everyone was focusing on the search for the patrol car. 'Bots and humans coming and going all hours of the day and night, following any and all leads. The barely contained chaos allowed Sira to fade into the background. She hid in her room; grieving for what she had lost. Wanting to bury her face in Jal's shoulder and let his strong arms hold her. Wanting the hollow pain to go away, but knowing time is the only balm left for her wounds.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira's room was dark. The only light came from a candle, softly glowing at the edge of the recharge bunk. The noise that assaulted his audio receptors was harsh. The grinding wail reminded his of the warning klaxon at the Kalis Processing facility. The noise faded into a techno beat, the male voice sang

"_I'm not sure/ what I'm looking for anymore/ I just know/ that I'm harder to console/ I don't need to see who I'm trying to be/ Instead of me/ But the key/ is a question of control." _

Optimus adjusted his optics to the low light level. Sira was lying in her bed. Head buried under her pillow.

"_There's a hole in you soul/ like an animal/ With no conscience/ Repentance unknown/ Close your eyes/ Pay the price for you paradise/ Devils feed on the seeds/ that are sown."_

Prime stepped into the room. He moved across the small space and turned the music off. Sira lifted her head causing the pillow to slide to the side. Blinking slowly, she wanted to see who had invaded her private space.

"I knocked," was all Optimus said.

Sira sat up. Pulling the blankets to cover her naked form. She rubbed her eyes sleepily and looked at the Autobot with mild interest.

Prime felt guilty. He had interrupted her recharge cycle to talk to her. He turned the light level up and looked around the room. He hadn't been in here since he assigned the small space to her. Sira's room was in the Autobot quarters. Captain Lennox had suggested that a lone female not be housed with a bunch of army rangers. It wouldn't be a problem now, but as more troops arrived to train, there could be issues. Optimus researched assault rate on women and decided that the Captain had a valid point.

The room was almost entirely empty, the recharge bed held the only signs of habitation. On top were mismatched bed and armoire; both showed years of usage. A row of candles lined the outside edge of the metal slab. Her CD player sat on top of a stack of books. This had been hybridized and jacked into the room's comm system. A metal stair case provided the only way up or down.

"How is the shoulder?" she asked. Her voice still heavy with sleep.

"One of the servo gears has a fracture in it and needs replacement."

"Does it hurt?" She was reaching for a garment at the foot of her bed.

He smiled. "No, I have turned off the pain receptors in that area. I didn't come hear to talk about me. There are some things I would like to ask about."

She looked around the room and sighed. She knew that he would get around to this sooner or later. She was hoping for later, much later.

"How did you do it? How did you slice through Cybertronian armor that easily?" The question had been plaguing him. Sira with a simple sword could do as much damage, as the militaries most advanced weapons. He had replayed the event over and over to see what he missed.

"I can assure you what I did wasn't easy." She was kneeling on her bed, tying the belt to her leopard print robe.

"I can feel things. I understand some things. I understand metal. Dad always said the metal sang to me. I also understand fire. I can shape both with my energy. It's like I have a pool of power deep within me. I can tap this pool and use it to shape metal. That's how I made most of my jewelry. I don't know how, I just can. But, your are different. You're not just metal. You're living metal. You have souls, you're alive. Your metal is a part of you. Do you know how hard it is to affect someone's life force? With normal metals gold, silver there isn't a life entwined with the material. It's just material. I'm not making sense am I?" Her words were cautious, stumbling. How do you explain the color blue to a blind person?

Optimus just stood in silence. He wasn't sure if he understood anything the woman was trying to say. He waited for her to find the correct words.

"When I stabbed the police car, I had to put _a lot _of myself into the sword. It's like every time I dip into the pool, I have to use a small amount of my soul for it to work. Don't look at me like that. Anyway when I sent the blade into his armor, I could feel him. What he was at the center of his being. I don't ever want to be near that thing again. "She gave up and shrugged. She could never explain this to herself, much less an alien being.

"Sira, what you felt was Barricades spark. We do not have souls like an organic. We are each a living spark. Souls and sparks are much the same, and very different. When you say you use a part of your soul, are you suggesting you actually deplete part of you life force?" He wasn't sure he wanted to hear anymore, but he had to have his answers.

Sira looked at the mech, wondering how much he could comprehend the spiritual aspect of her nature. For it ran deep and defined exactly who she was.

"Yes, I use a small part of myself. I have to weigh the cost against the gain every time I tap that power. It takes time to recover, and become whole again. Can I show you something?" She asked as she stepped off her bed and walked to the edge of the metal platform. Her robe opened to expose a long slash of pale skin against the tawny yellow and ebony pattern.

She took his continued silence as "yes". Taking several deep breaths to chase away doubt and center her thoughts, she called forth a drop of energy, and willed it to do her bidding. She held her arm strait, fist curled tight and palm down.

Optimus could feel the subtle pull. It snaked around him. Warn and soft, like her fur coat rubbing along his interior.

Sira turned her arm so her palm was facing up. Slowly opening it a glow escaped through her fingers. Nestled inside was a small orb, pulsating with a light of its own. She fed and nurtured the sphere until it grew to about the size of a softball. Giving it a little toss the ball hovered almost half way between them. Reds, oranges and yellows swirled across the surface. Fire under glass. A super nova reduced to the size of a human child's toy.

He stood transfixed. Mesmerized as the light played across his optics. "What is it?" he finally asked.

"Energy. Life. Fire. Heat. Desire. Love. Hate. What is it not?" Her voice was strange and distant.

Optimus tore his gaze away from the orb to look at the woman. The green of her irises had bleed to cover the whole eye. The white sclera was gone. Pupils dilated beyond what was humanly possible, an iridescent glow lit them from deep within. Her eyes were as inhuman and alien as his optics. He reached for her. The movement broke her concentration and the glowing sphere winked out of existence.

As Sira turned her attention to him, Prime could feel the energy change direction. It played along his armor; touching, caressing.

"Do you trust me?" she asked

"I trust you," he answered. And he did

She sent her power slipping past his armor. The tendrils and wisps brushed seductively against him. Making the great warrior shudder. She found his spark. It glowed and flickered in her minds eye. Like Ratchet's, this one was that amazing mix of fire and electricity. This spark was cobalt, accentuated with a blue so deep it appeared to be black. This spark placed hope, love and loyalty above everything else. Its beauty almost made her cry.

_Oh, Primus the heat. _Everywhere she brushed against him, he was left hot and wanting. He could feel her at his spark, but she wouldn't push any further. She wouldn't touch him. He reached out with his conciseness, trying to grab hold of her. For a fleeting moment he touched her, then the Matrix stirred. He felt her panic and slip away.

She could feel him respond to her, it made her nervous and excited. She had never been able to connect with someone else like this. No one had ever noticed when she neared their soul. Optimus was reacting to her intrusion as if this was the most natural thing in the universe. His confidence comforted her. But there was something wrong. Another had joined them. A presence so vast and ancient it scared her. This power was turning its attention to her. She didn't what to be noticed by such a force. She retreated, pulling every last strand of her power back with her. It was gone. The moment was over.

She had pushed herself too far. Her head was throbbing. Fluid tickled her nose, she wiped it and saw blood. She needed to lie down. A huge hand scooped her without warning. She curled up his palm.

Optimus raised her to his level. "What are you?" he wasn't hostile or accusing, he just wanted to know.

"There isn't a word for what I am."

Prime placed the female on her bed. He could tell her body was in need of rest, and it would be best if he left her to rest. He lowered the light level in the room. As he walked out he looked over his shoulder. She was already asleep.

As he made his way to his private quarters, he doubted if they would ever talk about what had happened. She had just given him more than she would ever know. Recharge was elusive for him that night.

_**XxxX.**_

**AN: **Poor Sira knows not what she has done. I hope this made sense to everyone. It was a booger to write. Song lyrics are verse 1 and 3 of "A Pain That I'm Use To" by Depeche Mode.

To **Fennecfox03** - Thanks. I may pick your brain in the future. Again. Hope you like this. To **Punk Autobot ** - Glad you enjoyed it. I've always thought that Optimus as a big softy. Someone that prefers to be all squishy and sentimental just isn't allowed to. To **Ladyofthebookworms **- I hope to get the decepticons riled up so Sira can have some more fun. They aren't co-operating. Fraggin' pains in the aft. To **Hermonine **- Thanks. I try to keep the standard high.

If there are any blaring mistakes, please let me know. I started typing this as soon as my fever broke and I stopped shaking. Mistakes have been made.


	14. Connections Pt 2

**Disclaimer: **Just having fun. Haven't made a single cent from this, and never will

**Warnings: **Some language.

I would like to thank my Beta, **okami-myrrh ibis**. Everyone should applaud this woman, for she has decided to help clean up my mistakes. Oh, she has her work cut out for her. Any and all mistakes are still mine.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Connections Part 2**_

He hadn't talked with Sira for over a week. He had seen her from a distance and he kept watch from a distance. He knew that she went a couple of days without eating. He knew that she had changed her sleep pattern to a more nocturnal existence. He knew that she went running every evening. And he knew that she was spending long nights in front of a computer, writing in a notebook she talked Sam out of. Prime had not been avoiding the woman. He had other issues that demanded his immediate attention.

First the search for Barricade had hit a proverbial wall. The 'Con had crawled into a hole and was staying there.

Then Optimus, the twins and Ironhide retrieved the container Sunny and Sides had brought with them to Earth. When the two warriors had intercepted the message to reassemble on Earth, they decided to raid a Decepticon outpost, and had "liberated" some high grade and important pieces of refinement equipment. With a little adjustment the Autobots could began processing their own energon.

Also, Ratchet had placed a request to Lockheed - Martin to have a new gear manufactured for Prime's shoulder. The government had only been too happy to fulfill the request if the Autobots would share the technology for Bumblebee's solar accelerator cannon. Optimus had yet to respond to General McKaffee's trade offer.

He was sitting at his desk trying to decide what to use as a counter offer. Bee's weapon systems were some of the best Cybertron produces … produced. Optimus doesn't mind helping Earth's troops prepare for the eventual Decepticon attack. He doesn't mind helping to develop more efficient 'munitions for the humans' existing weapons. But he does mind handing over Cybertronian weapons to the young species. The price may be too high.

A soft knock on his office door brings the Commander out of his melancholy thoughts. He opens the door to find Sira waiting on the other side. Prime's optics widen in surprise.

"Can I talk to you about something? Later when you aren't busy," she asked.

He watched her. Small twitches in her hands gave away her nervousness. He smiled to himself.

"I am free now if you would like to talk." Not completely the truth, but he was having a hard time accomplishing anything else.

Sira stepped into his office. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail on top of her head. Small sweat soaked tendrils had escaped and clung to face and neck.

"How was your run?" Optimus asked. Trying for small talk, a concept unknown on Cybertron.

"Fine. How's that shoulder?"

"Acceptable."

"Liar," her tone was light and joking, but she meant it. "Ratchet says you need to have that piece replaced and you haven't done it. Why?"

He reached down to offer his hand to her. She stepped into his palm, resting a hand on his index finger for balance.

"It is a complicated issue," he stated flatly. Sira hoped off Prime's hand and onto his desk. She turned to face him.

"It's not a complicated issue. You haven't had the repairs made because the military wants to trade weapons for parts. That, actually, pisses me off." The fire in her eyes left the mech with little doubt to the depth of her anger.

"You need to get that shoulder fixed," she continued. "The last thing we need is to have you come away from the next fight maimed or worse."

"I am fully aware of this. Do you suggest that I give General McKaffee what he wants?" he failed to keep the frustration from his voice.

"Oh, Hell's Bells no. Personally, I think you should tell the good General to stick it. The humans have enough weapons. I propose we go out and buy the part."

His optics opened wide. Sira was standing before him, arms across her chest; a lopsided grin painted on her face. That little pink tongue playing with a long canine.

"What have you come up with?" he narrowed his optics at her.

Sira spend the next three hours outlining her plan. She explained U. S. Patent Laws, and how companies used them to protect their inventions and processes. She then went on to explain how corporations and individuals could sell those patents. Off shore banking accounts, privately held companies and investing were also covered. She ended her presentation with two phrases: private sector and civilian application.

Optimus was impressed. The information was well organized and methodical. Sira answered his every question; all of it from memory. He leaned back in his chair, weighing the woman's words. Ideas filtered through his processor.

"Do you have any idea what the Department of Defense will do when they figure out what we are doing?"

Sira laughed coldly, "Yeah, they will be pissed. Serves them right. When Keller calls to complain, you can always say something about economic stimulus and hang up. Seriously, the government is going to try to push. You'll … we'll need to stand firm. I have a lawyer friend standing by. He's conniving, vicious and loves to fuck with the establishment. He will drag this to the Supreme Court if need be. I don't think it will get that far. Too much giant, alien robot exposure."

"Is this lawyer aware of us?"

"Nope. I have him eating out of my hand though. When Miss Ainsley died, he was the sole benefactor of my estate, and I never named him as beneficiary. I called him two days ago to see if he was enjoying my money. He'll do what ever I ask now."

"How are we to negotiate business deals?"

"Internet. I did it on a smaller scale. The Witwicky boy has an undeclared major. See if he wants to go to business school. I have something else for you."

The devious female instructs him to extract a file from her personal computer. A stylized metal grey "C" fades into view on his screen. Nested within the "C" is a small ocean blue "e". The words "Cybertronian - Earth Technologies appear. He is left speechless.

"Hope you like it. I thought about calling it Cyberdyne, but that word is trademarked. And I figured no one would find it funny. Your company has been in existence for forty- two hours," she shruged casually.

"Why … ?" he is completely at a loss for words. He realizes that he could know this woman for vorns and she still be surprised by her.

"I told you, the way some people are treating you pisses me off. It isn't right. Also, I was bored. Optimus, I haven't got a lot in the world, so I have to take care of what's left. Like Daddy always said, 'If you can't do what's smart, then do what's right' "

Prime saw the sadness settle in her eyes. She was still hurting, and probably always would. But, she seemed willing to fight and carry on. This lifted some of the worry from his shoulders. Sira hoped for the future.

"Can I go? I really need a shower and dinner." She sniffed at herself to make the point.

"Yes, you do."

He sat the woman on the floor. Once she had left, he leaned back in his chair and watched the "Ce" logo slowly spin on the screen. The Autobots' precarious toe hold in the world had just become a handhold. Dreams of co-existing with the humans were a little closer. He only hoped that they would be able to neutralize the Decepticons.

_**XxxX.**_

**AN: **I know nothing about Patent laws. I tried looking them up on-line. After trying to read through them all that I accomplished was drooling on the key board. So I choose to avoid the specifics. This is fiction. Roll with it.

To **Ladyofthebookworms**- Sira isn't a techno path. She is closer to those who can see auras, but she sees that soul, spark, life force instead. And, oh yeah, she can manipulate metal. To **Fennecfox03**- Thanks. It took forever to write that chapter. Trying to say the right things without giving it all away. To **Punk** **Autobot** - Thanks also. I have a thing for eyes too. That's always the first thing I start on a drawing. To **Atalan **- We've chatted a little. I just want everybody to know how much your review has helped. I hope this is better, a little. Glad you like Sira. I can't stand most Ocs either. Too bubble-headed. I've tried to make Sira real. Independent, moody, funny, strong, vulnerable, spiritual, a little snobby and contradictory, just like a real person. Oh, nope not a snake.


	15. Third Interlude

**Disclaimer: **Owner by other, more talented people

**Warnings: **The usual and possible confusion

_**XxxX.**_

_**Third Interlude**_

"Ratchet, that is absolutely hideous."

The medic snaps his head around as the golden twin walks into the shop like he owns it. Sunstreaker makes his way around the object in the middle if the floor. Icy blue optics take in the details. He picks up Prime's blue prints and casually gazes at them, before he tosses them aside.

"So this is what all the hush-hush is about. I see you have another one underway over there," the young mech nods toward a similar item in the corner.

"What the frag are you doing in here?" snarls Ratchet, furious at the intrusion.

"I was curious what you were doing in here. And now I know."

"Sunny, this isn't any of your. . . "

"The lines are all wrong," Sunstreaker interrupts. "This needs grace."

"What the frag are you talking about?"

The yellow Lamborghini walks around the smaller object. He gently runs his hands along the shape. "Ratchet, I know what this is, or what it will be, and it is ugly. It needs to be graceful. Have long curved lines. Elegant and a touch exotic. What color are you going to paint it?"

The medic stammers, "I don't know what color it's going to be. That is the least of my concerns."

Sunstreaker looks the chartreuse and red autobot up and down. "Obviously. Let me help. I can turn this into a work of art."

"You want to help?" the older mech almost laughs at the idea.

Arctic cold optics stare at the medic, "No one is going to be happy with this unless it is perfect. I want to make it perfect. I know you think I'm only good for slaggin' 'Cons, but before the war was widespread my sculptures and murals sold for thousands of credits. Let me help you make this what it should be."

Ratchet rubs his hands on his face plates. He does remember that Sunny had been an up and coming artist on Cybertron. He also knows that he can build this to work flawlessly, but it is lacking in the appearance department.

"Fine you can help, but you cannot tell anyone. Especially, your glitch-headed brother . Do you understand?"

The melee warrior smiles faintly. He rubs his hands over the support structure, "Can you remove some of the metal here and here? Without compromising the strength?"

Ratchet looks at the areas and nods it can be done.

"Good. I think this should be light and fast."

_**XxxX.**_

**AN: **Yes, I know it's short, but it's very important. Trust me, all of these odd loose threads will wave together later.

Thank you to everyone for reading. Reviwes are loved.


	16. New Arrivals

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Transformers. Duh.

**Warnings: **Language.

Special thanks to my Betas: **Lady Sunflower** & **okami-myrrhibis**. They get to put up with all my mistakes and lack of computer knowledge. All mistakes still belong to me.

Please read and review

_**XxxX.**_

_**New Arrivals**_

Special Agent Randolph Jerome Smith straightened his tie and checked his suit over for lint. Today was the day he had worked his entire career towards. With hard work, and a small amount of back-stabbing, he received the assignment he deserved. An assignment so classified his only official contact was the Secretary of Defense. There was also an unofficial contact. A name and phone number slipped in the back of a file.

This was all fine with Agent Smith. Since the attacks on Mission City, John Keller had been almost AWOL from the political arena. The President had assured everyone that Keller was personally over seeing negotiations with important and powerful new allies. Who these allies were had yet to be disclosed or even discussed out in the open. Most of those around Washington just assumed that Keller had had a nervous breakdown or stroke, and the White House was covering it up. No one wants to look weak in a time of crisis, after all.

Not that any of this mattered to Special Agent Smith. He had an assignment to handle and two bosses to work for. One would be replaced in the next term and the other wanted the job. Just another day of cutthroat, political manipulation; business as usual.

The dossier Smith had been given was surprisingly uninformative. It contained the pictures of several Army Rangers, a couple of college kids, a list of "names of associates" and a typed page stating that he was to "observe and report the activities of this group". That was it. Nothing like going in blind.

To Agent Smith, it sounded like a group of dirty soldiers. A little crime ring, trafficking drugs, guns, illegals,who knows what. Something the Secretary of Defense would read a report about over his omelet, not have direct involvement in. At least this was state side, near the California/Nevada border and he didn't have to worry about crappy English, questionable food or inoculations.

Special Agent Smith would perform his job admirably and move another notch up the ladder.

Currently, though, Agent Smith was outside a tiny airport terminal, waiting for his ride. The cold winds of late January whipped his overcoat around him. His luggage sat near his legs like well-trained dogs at heel.

Over half an hour passed when a man in military fatigues approached him.

"Randy Smith?"

Agent Smith grimaced at the informality. He had been briefed that these people would know who he was and who he reported to. Keller had said Agent Smith wouldn't get within a couple of miles of them otherwise.

"I am Special Agent Randolph Smith."

The man in fatigues just nodded. He picked up two suitcases and started to walk off, so Smith picked up the remaining case and followed.

"Hi. Name's Captain Will Lennox. We would have been here sooner, but there was an argument over parking." Agent Smith accepted this as an apology, although it sounded more like an excuse.

The two walked in silence to the back of the short term parking lot. Sitting all alone was the most badass black truck Smith had ever seen. Power and menace hung around it like a fog. The damn vehicle even had spare tanks and smokestacks. This certainly wasn't a government-issued vehicle.

"Hey, what do I have to do to get a ride like this?" Smith asked.

Lennox chuckled and ran a hand gently down the side. "Be friends with him."

Agent Smith laughed at the Captain's peculiar joke. He was beginning to wonder if the man was Section Seven.

Lennox walked to the back of the truck, and tried to drop the tailgate. It wouldn't budge. The Capitan tried a couple of more times. The tailgate still wouldn't move.

"Why are you being like this?" Lennox hit the rear quarter panel with the flat of his hand. The tailgate dropped with a resounding thud. The two men loaded the bags and drove away from the airport.

Once outside of Tranquility Captain Lennox started talking. "So what all did the higher ups tell you about the guys?"

"What guys? I was told to show up and act as a government liaison." Not quite the truth, but it would do.

Lennox just stared at the newcomer. "They really didn't tell you anything?"

Agent Smith just shook his head.

"Wow. Oh man, are you in for a surprise. Okay, let's see. You'll be living on the base with the guys. Most of us live nearby. You may be asked to participate in training maneuvers. You don't have to. I would suggest taking up running; not jogging, running. We'll figure out kitchen roster later. Thursdays are movie nights. Sam, Mikaela and Bee usually come around on the weekends." The man took a breath.

"Oh, we try to keep things informal around here. No sirs or misters. You'll meet Optimus tonight. Keep it polite, but don't call him 'mister'. He will set the tone. They really didn't tell you anything?"

Agent Smith was wondering why "Optimus" was not mentioned in his list of known associates. What else did the government not know about these people?

Captain Lennox steered the truck off the interstate and down several country roads. Agent Smith almost groaned when he saw the airport. It looked like the perfect place to dump a body. This thought kindled a spark of concern. He would have to be cautious; these men were trained killers.

They rolled through a chain link gate. Smith could see condemned signs and several "Hazardous Materials" and "Do Not Enters" posted around.

"Home, sweet home." The Captain chuckled as he pulled the truck into an enormous airplane hangar.

Agent Smith was positive a person could contract tetanus just by looking at the building.

The men exited the truck. Lennox retrieved the suitcases and walked to the back of the hanger. Agent Smith looked around as he walked towards the Captain. The area was empty except for a new white semi trailer. A large, red, stylized mask was painted on the side. It looked out of place amongst the dust and detritus blowing around.

Smith stood by Lennox. "Look," he began, "joke's over. Can we get to wherever we are going?"

Lennox just smiled and pushed a series of buttons on his cell phone. The floor beneath them started to descend. When they could no longer see the inside of the hangar, Smith swore he heard that truck start up and leave the area.

They ended up standing in a room of gigantic proportions. Four hallways branched off in several directions. Three were brightly lit and the fourth appeared to be under construction. Raw earth and stone was exposed. Smith couldn't fathom why anyone would need a facility of these dimensions. The halls were at least fifty feet high by fifty feet wide, and they seemed to stretch on forever. He had stepped into an ultra-modern cathedral colored a stark lifeless white.

Lennox walked down a hall towards a line of shipping crates. "Hey, where is everyone?"

A woman stood from kneeling between two of the crates. She was wearing a red tank top with Felix the Cat flipping the bird. Her tight jeans were tucked into knee-high black boots. Agent Smith enjoyed the view when she bent over to pick up a piece of paper that lay on the floor.

In a smoky voice she answered the Captain, "I'm here. Stevenson is cooking dinner. Ratchet is with your men at the shooting range. Bee and the kids are checking out a drive-in theater they found in Nevada. The twins are on patrol, and if Optimus is smart, he is hiding somewhere taking a nap."

"The twins are still on patrol?" Lennox asked.

The woman shrugged. "They had something planned with silly string and a particle accelerator. I didn't ask."

"Do we have a particle accelerator?"

Again the woman just shrugged.

Agent Smith saw his chance to impress the lady. "Working particle accelerators are several miles in diameter. It would be hard to miss one."

The copper-haired woman looked at him. The expression on her face could have frozen a volcano. Lennox quickly stepped between the two. "I thought McCormick was supposed to be checking in the shipment?"

"I was bored."

"Sira, this is Special Agent Randolph Smith. Agent Smith, Sira." Lennox introduced the two.

Smith held his hand out to the woman. She looked him up and down, and then went back to her task.

"Dinner is in an hour. Meet and greet for dessert. Oh, hello new person," she said.

Lennox led the man down a hall, to a side corridor and finally to the human barracks.

"Is that woman always that bitchy?" Smith finally asked.

The Capitan chuckled. "Sira doesn't like new people. She is a little territorial. Give her a few days to get used to you. She'll warm up. When she first got here, Optimus wouldn't let anyone near her she was so jumpy."

"So, Optimus is in charge?"

"Yup. This is the big guy's operation. We are just here as support. My men and I got the job by default." 

Come on, it's getting close to dinner and we still have to walk there."

_**XxxX.**_

Agent Smith was introduced to the rest of the solidiers. They all grinned wildly when Lennox explained that he, Smith, had not been briefed to the nature of this facility. This was beginning to get annoying. Smith felt like he was the butt of some huge, cosmic joke.

Dinner turned out to be a simple affair; steaks, salad and a wonderful 1998 cabernet. Smith enjoyed watching the dynamics of the group. Lennox and his men were a tight bunch that had seen a lot of action together. They treated each other like brothers. It was the woman that didn't fit in. She wasn't military. She didn't belong to any branch of the government; Smith had asked. And she didn't come across as a stuffy researcher/ tech geek.

Smith spent dinner watching her. Sira wasn't model gorgeous, but her creamy white skin, and strong classical features would make most men turn their heads. High angled cheek bones hinted of something a little exotic in the blood line. Impeccable manners and noble bearing spoke of breeding and class, yet she was wearing a black leather jacket over a shirt that had a cartoon character making obscene gestures.

Sira was also quiet. Speaking only when spoken to. Laughing at jokes, but not adding to them. Her eyes watched and observed every detail around her. In the group, but not a part of it.

Heavy footfalls echoed towards the commissary. All heads turned. Optimus Prime, in his thirty feet of majesty strolled into the room. Flanking him were Ironhide and Ratchet. The twins brought up the rear.

A wine goblet Smith was holding shattered on the table. A blood red stain spread across the white linen.

Optimus addressed the new man, "Special Agent Randolph Smith, I am Optimus Prime. We are sentient robotic life forms form the planet Cybertron. Welcome to our home on Earth." The deep voice reverberated through Smith's chest.

Smith almost lost control of his bladder when Lennox clapped him on the shoulder, quipping, "Kind of puts the whole alien immigration issue in a new light."

Optimus spent some time making small talk with the humans; giving the Special Agent time to calm down. It took a lot longer then expected.

Epps made inquiries into the new shoulder gear. Lennox and Stevenson commented on how much easier it was using their modified cell phones to trigger the entrance elevator, instead of having to wait for an Autobot to do it for them.

Once the Agent's adrenaline levels had fallen off some, Optimus introduced the rest of the Autobots. He also informed the assembled group that in two days time, Wheeljack would be making Earth fall in the Nevada desert.

Agent Smith sat there. He realized hat everything he knew and believed in had just been shattered. The next morning he went for a jog. In a secluded area away from the base, he called his other contact.

_**XxxX.**_

Agent Smith rode with the soldiers in, what they assured him was a normal humvee. He had been mesmerized when the mechs compacted down into their alternate forms. Then it dawned on him, he had ridden in one of these _things_. This disturbed him. But not as much as the thought that these beings could hide as cars. And there were what - at least a billion cars on the road. A cold shiver of fear traveled up his spine.

Several hours into the desert, the tractor trailer stopped. Prime's passenger jumped out so he could transform. With his back to the setting sun, he started scanning the sky for his lost comrade. He located the glowing mass and pointed it out to the organic witnesses. Everyone watched as it cut through the Earth's atmosphere and grew in size.

"Scatter!" yelled Ratchet. He grabbed the two nearest humans and ran. The other mechs followed his lead. The flaming metal meteorite slammed into the ground where the group had been standing together. It bounced twice before coming to a stop. Several tense minutes passed before the protoform began to unfold itself.

The new arrival couldn't stand. One leg was connected by a single strut. Cauterized energon lines were haphazardly jutting out at odd angles. Holes and scorch marks decorated his body.

When Wheeljack saw the tiny humans, he started chattering wildly in the static language Cybertronians used. Optimus finally had to gently order the mech to "stand down and be quiet."

Sira was sitting on Sideswipe's shoulder. "What's he saying?" she asked her temporary perch.

The Lamborghini chuckled, "He wants everyone to leave him alone, so he can talk to a fleshy. Damn near in stasis lock and the fragger wants to make friends."

"So, who is he?"

"Ol, Wheeljack? He's a scientist, inventor, medic, and engineer." Quietly he continued, "No matter what never, ever help him. If he asks, find something else to do, or hide behind Prime,"

"Why?' Sira whispered back.

Sideswipe didn't say a word. He took his hands and slowly spread them apart, in the now universal sign for an explosion.

Wheeljack was carefully loaded into Primes trailer. Promises of spending a lot of time with the humans kept the scientist quiet.

The snatch and grab the mechs had done with the humans left most of them with minor cuts and bruises. Just another day in the presence of giant, robotic aliens. Agent Smith was convinced that these things had no business on Earth. That night he dreamed of thousands of protoform meteors raining destruction from the stars.

_**XxxX.**_

**An:** To **Ladyofthebookworms** - In the next episode, the Autobots buy a silk screen press and make a fortune selling tshirts with witty logos like "Decepticon Cannon Foder" and "I survived the Invasion". The average person has no to the true meaning of the shirts, they are just "cool to wear." Yes it's a running joke. To **Lady Sunflower **- Thanks for helping. Because of her I can now instant message. The world will never be the same. Hey, stop laughing. I'm the most tech smart person in my family, other than my dad. To **i-love-me-some-leggypoo** - Glad you like Sira. She is badass. Latter on she gets to be super duper badass.

Thank you for reading. just two more chapters until the big moments, then the entire story turns on a dime and I'll take you a new direction.


	17. Coffee Talk

**Disclaimer**: How many time to I have to say it? I don't own the Transformers.

**Warnings: **Language

A special thank you to **okami-myrrhibis** and **Lady Sunflower**. With out them this would look like the work of an illiterate ditz, high on caffine. Oh, wait this_ is _the work of a semi-literate ditz, high on caffine.

Please read and review. All comments welcome.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Coffee Talk**_

"Why are you here?" 

Sira looked around the newspaper she was reading; Agent Smith had sat down opposite her. She went back to reading about a local high school basketball team, hoping the good agent would get the hint and leave, or better yet, drop dead.

"I asked you a question," the man said as he tapped on the paper she held between them.

"I am here because I just finished my breakfast and wanted to read the paper." She didn't try to keep the acid from her voice.

"No. Why are you at this base? From what I see, all you do is hang around and chat up the robots. There is the occasional odd job. I've seen you clean up some stuff." 

"They do not like being called robots. It's insulting. Mechanoid, mech, Cybertronian, their individual names, or 'Bot - short for Autobot - any of those are fine - but they are not robots. Humans build robots." 

"I heard you calling one a 'giant, fucking robot.'" 

She sighed. "I was insulting him. He called me a monkey. I'm not a monkey. It's called banter. If you had friends, you would understand." 

"But why are you here? You're not military. You're not part of the government, and from what I can tell, you've only existed, legally, for a few months. You don't belong here." 

The man is like a pit-bull dog with a steak. He just wouldn't give up.

"Okay. In a nutshell, Optimus saved my life and I have nowhere else to go. We have become friends, and I have been helping them learn and negotiate Earth's cultures. They need someone to answer questions and clarify meanings. And that's what I do. I've studied the human animal all my life." She took a sip of coffee and turned the page to check out the last NASCAR race, hoping the soldiers would leave more than the sports pages.

"So, you actually do serve a function, useless as it is. I was beginning to wonder if you weren't just eye candy. You know, something to keep the morale up. Then again, why would robots need eye candy? Do the robots enjoy having an attractive female around?" His attitude was smug and self-righteous.

"I don't know, go ask one of them," she suggested.

Sira looked over her paper. She was trying to decide if she could justify ripping the man's throat out right here. Deciding she couldn't, she then wondered what it would cost her to get one of the twins to "accidentally" step on the obnoxious man. Perhaps she would run the idea by them, if only out of curiosity.

Agent Smith had become a thorn in the side to the Autobots. At first, Prime had welcomed the man with open arms, always hoping to make a new ally. But, Optimus was neither ignorant nor naive, and when he realized that Smith was reporting to Keller and General McKaffe, the game changed. (It was a closely guarded secret that the mechs could hack into cell phones from a distance. Agent Smith had very few truly, private phone calls.)

Meetings were held with the man present, but sensitive information would be discussed later. The security systems for the computers were changed to encrypted Cybertronian. This was an annoyance to the humans and Sira, but a necessary evil. Prime's office and everyone's private quarters had ever-changing entry codes. Bits of misleading information were dropped when Smith was around. Prime didn't condone this behavior, but he had yet to stop it. Eventually, Agent Smith would realize he was only reporting what the Autobots wanted him to report. Perhaps then, the government would realize it couldn't pull "cloak and dagger" with beings that had, personally, been at war for millions of years.

But, Agent Smith and Sira had a particularly nasty, hate/hate relationship. She didn't like him and made little effort to hide that fact. The man had actually asked her out. She had not been impressed with the way he invaded her personal space and touched her hair while telling her about his exploits at the CIA. Randolph Smith had perfect, all-American good looks, was unaccustomed to failure and had manically puritanical values. She couldn't fathom what they would even talk about over dinner, other than him. He didn't take her brutal rejection well.

On the up side, Smith seemed oblivious to what she was or wasn't. Sira was careful whenever the Agent was around. She made sure the rooms light were turned on high to prevent eye reflection, and made sure her movements and gestures seemed human, such as small, polite smiles to hide the tell-tale teeth.

That may be why she truly hated the man. Before he came, she had a sanctuary, a place to be herself, and not have to hide behind the human veil too much. Now, she was constantly checking over her shoulder to make sure the intruder would not discover her secret.

"Don't you have a report to write, or someone else to go torment?" she asked, more to her coffee mug than him.

"What do you see in these machines? It's not like they are real people." 

Sira swallowed the growl rising in her throat. "They _are_ people. And, if you must know, I enjoy their company. Optimus is one of the few people that hasn't judged me. He accepts me as I am, as do the others. They are the closest thing I have to a family." 

"Damn, that is pathetic. You feel comfortable around them because they don't judge you. That must be one hell of a guilty conscious. There aren't enough shrinks in the world to fix you. You are some seriously damaged goods." Smith actually laughed as he said it.

Sira carefully folder her paper and left, her boot heels clicking down the long hallway as she headed to the weight room. She stood, facing a large punching bag. Tremors ran along her body as she tried to control her blinding anger, a dangerous red coloring her vision. Without warning, she lashed out, claws slicing long gashes in the leather. The bag spiraled around and a second strike sent it swinging in the opposite direction.

Epps turned away from the door, his foot falls echoing down the hall as ran to find one of the Autobots

_**XxxX.**_

Mid-February had blessed the region with some unseasonably warm days. Winter would return with a vengeance, but for now everyone basked in the spring-like weather.

Sira had talked Sideswipe into going to Mission City for the day. Optimus was busy negotiating the purchase of seven Ce Tech patents. (It was odd to hear the huge mech speak fluent Japanese.) Ratchet, Wheeljack and Sunstreaker were locked up in Ratchet's med bay. Bumblebee was off with his charges. Lennox, Epps and Ironhide had disappeared, and the rest of Lennox's men decided they needed a furlough. This left Sira and Sides' alone with Smith.

The red Lamborghini created huge dust plumes as he tore away from the base. A Super Deluxe wash at The Detail Kings was a small price to pay to avoid committing homicide.

Sideswipe parked in a nice, visible spot. Several college-age girls were ogling the hot, red sports car. One even reached out to run her hand over the incredibly warm, smooth paint.

Sira sent the warrior a text message as she walked away. "Lecher!" 

The Autobot rocked merrily on his shocks in response.

She headed towards a small square lined with shops; a trip to the bookstore being an ideal way to spend the day. She had recently discovered Optimus' love of fiction. She knew of a book about the Knights Templar that would keep him enthralled. They could argue, cuss and discuss for days the many layers of symbolism in the book. She knew it by heart; it had been one of her father's favorites. Also, a new copy of _Dracula _was a must; the bots had worn out her other one. An arm slipped around hers, linking them together. She whipped her head around to see the smarmy Special Agent Simmons standing next to her.

"Hey, sweetheart. Did you miss me?" 

It took Sira less than a heartbeat to recover. "Well, if it isn't Special Agent Simian." 

"That's Simmons." He bristled.

"What do you want?" she snapped, dropping all pretense of nicety.

"I want to buy you a coffee. Talk a little, see how you are doing. Impart some words of wisdom," he replied, that slimy smile still plastered on his face.

Sira narrowed her eyes at him, even if he couldn't see them through her dark shades. Simmons steered her towards The Coffee House. She let him, confident in the knowledge that three tons of high-strung, hot-tempered, red Lamborghini waited around the corner.

They stood together in line, arms still linked. Simmons made idle small talk. He commented about the weather, the falling stock market and about an Iowa machine shop that was paid to make a gear no-one on Earth had ever seen. Just imagine, some group of country hicks, that made replacement parts for old farm implements, are now making custom pieces of one Orion Pax. Isn't Orion Pax the CEO of Ce Tech, that small mysterious company that is revolutionizing the electronics and communications industries? And who is Orion Pax? And just how much is he worth?

Sira treated this piece of news like it was as interesting as the weather. Silently she wondered if Simmons had just compared Prime to an old tractor. The rest was bound to come out anyway.

"Those 'country hicks' must know what they are doing to land such an interesting bid." She could play, too.

Agent Simmons ordered his double venti Macchiato. Sira just looked at the endless varieties listed on the board. She quickly settled on "a plain cup of coffee, this big," and held her hand about seven inches off the counter. Simmons snickered at the confused, vacant expression on the barista's face.

The two decided to settle at an outdoor table; fewer people to overhear them.

Sira took a careful sip. Simmons leaned forward and nodded at her drink, "Plain old Joe. Plebian." 

"Thirteen syllable coffee. Bourgeois snob." 

Agent Simmons chuckled at her retort. "Actually it has nine syllables. So, how is Agent Smith getting along?" 

Sira snarled. "He is a condescending, misogynistic, troglodyte that needs to be neutered before he accidentally reproduces." 

"Smith is dangerous." 

"Smith is someone else's lap dog. Optimus had his number early on. It's hard to fool someone who ran a planet for a few million years. Perhaps some people should remember that fact." 

Simmons watched the woman, his every instinct telling him to be wary. He had good instincts.

"Sira, some people have found out what the Autobots are doing. These people are pissed off and scared. It is of general opinion that Optimus is trying to slip his collar." 

"Did you think Optimus would wear a collar and lead for long? He plays by human rules because he feels it is best, not because he is being forced to. It makes me sick to see what you are trying to do. Humanity has finally made contact and instead of working together to bring about a Golden Age, everyone just wants it all to go away." 

"Listen lady, everybody knows which side you're lined up with. That lawyer Optimus keeps on the payroll makes sure nobody can get near Ce Tech without this whole thing blowing up on the public front. And I have a sneaking suspicion that is exactly what Prime wants to happen. Don't bite my head off, lady. I'm here to warn you, not cause trouble." 

The two measured each other up.

Simmons continued, "Some of the higher ups are desperate to put Optimus back in his place. They are hinting at drastic measures. The fact that the 'Bots have almost doubled in number makes them nervous. The term 'invasion' has been used." 

"Don't these people realize that there are several Decepticons still out there, and a real invasion is possibly coming?" 

Agent Simmons sighed. "These people were not at Mission City or the Hoover Dam. All they see are numbers in reports. They have never looked into the red optics of a Decepticon and seen the hate and evil in there." 

"Which side are you on Simmons?" 

"I think your buddies are the worst things that have ever fallen out of the sky. But, I also know that without them we face extinction. The Autobots are our only line of defense against their insane rivals. I want whatever it takes to keep Optimus Prime and his mechs happy and willing to defend us. Without them, every man, woman and child on this planet will die. That is the side I'm on - Humanity's." 

Sira was about to say something when her phone rang. She flipped it open to read the message.

"**Do I need to make him extra squishy? - SS**" 

She showed Agent Simons the text just to watch him blanch.

Quickly, she typed back, "**Not yet**." 

She pocketed her phone and tried to resume the conversation with Agent Simmons when the little blue mobile chirped again.

"**R U sure? - SS**" 

Next, "showed up on the display. Confused, she showed Simmons the phone.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Kisses," he answered.

She snapped the phone shut and realized she had forgotten what she wanted to say. The idea that Simmons knew what text kisses were was deeply disturbing.

"Why are you telling me this? Wouldn't it be easier to call Optimus, or have Keller call him? Why all the spy games crap?" 

The Special Agent leaned closer. "Plausible deniability. Keller doesn't know, yet. I can't just go to the Autobots. They barely tolerate me for official reasons. I can't just barge in; the pissy little yellow one will death ray me. You have Prime's ear. He will listen to you. Sira, be careful. There is a wolf among the flock, and these people may try to play hardball." 

Sira gave Simmons her own cold, predatory smile. She may not be a wolf, but she could protect her territory against one.

Her phone chirped again. "I've got to go. That potentially psychotic Lamborghini is getting restless." She reached over and touched the man's arm. "Simmons, you're not bullet-proof either." 

"Sweetheart, don't worry about me. I'm just touched you care." 

She snorted in protest,"Next time you want to take me out for coffee, make it the truck stop. This stuff is old, bitter, burnt and expensive." 

As she walked away she could hear him laughing. Now to convince the sports car to go home early.

_**XxxX.**_

Special Agent Smith was seething. He had just finished his conversation with General McKaffee. It seemed that the robots were becoming less and less dependent on the government and no one wanted to these huge weapons running loose and unchecked.

The CIA had found the account for Ce Tech. It had a dollar thirty-five in it. Only hours before the account had been transferred and now bounced around the globe, split over a hundred different ways. The trail was so convoluted that every time they closed in on an existing account, it would just disappear. There was concern that the money was being funneled into countries that wouldn't honor a U.S. search warrant. The robots were getting smarter, and they played the electric money transfers like checkers.

Optimus Prime touted about harmony and mutual advancement, but Smith didn't believe a word of it, and neither did several of the generals. They all agreed that the machines should be neutralized and stripped of all useful equipment, before they decided that humanity would be better off extinct.

Some cautioned about the return of the Decepticons, but that had been over two, almost three, years ago. There was the report of a run-in with NEB-3. The only witnesses were Prime and his bitch. A lot of cooler heads had decided that there wasn't a Decepticon threat with their leader dead.

Smith had just stormed out of the Commissary. He and Lennox had had a shouting match and one of the robots told him to leave. Several of Lennox's men were up for re-enlistment, and they were actually going to leave the military to work for Prime full time.

Lennox agreed with the idea and that was what had started the argument.

And so it began. The aliens were amassing their army, but instead of mindless drones, they had well-trained men, willing followers.

They were all traitors! Traitors to their country. Traitors to their species. Everyone around here had thrown their lot in with the robots, and it galled Smith. Couldn't anyone see how dangerous these things were? Humans were just ants to them. For the love of God, several of them referred to people as "squishies." 

Agent Smith paced around the shitty old airport. He circled the terminal building to find the Autobot Commander sitting cross-legged on the tarmac, moon light reflecting off his armor. Sitting in his hand, mirroring his pose was Sira, their laughter echoing softly in the night.

Agent Smith was angrier than ever.

_**XxxX.**_

AN: 


	18. Outed

**Disclaimer: **What? I'm still broke! Well, I guess I really don't own the Transformers.

**Warnings: **Language, violence, nudity, sexual humor. All the good stuff.

Special Thank Yous go out to **okami -myrrhibis **and **Lady Sunflower **who are trying to help clean up my messes. I can make some big messes.

Please read and review.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Outed**_

It was mid-morning as she made her way back to the canteen. She had left her cell phone on a table and needed to retrieve it. Surely Special Agent Smith had finished his poached eggs by now and was else where spreading hate and discontent.

Sira walked through the doorway and looked around; the Lamborghini twins were sitting at a mech-sized table. She quietly walked across the room - not sneaking, just not drawing attention to herself. She knew that they knew she was there.

"When do we get one?" Sideswipe all but whined to his brother.

"I don't want one," stated Sunstreaker. "They are messy. They shed and you have to feed them. We are not getting one."

"Oh, come on. They look like fun. They have to be fun; everybody has 'em. Bee's got two. Ironhide has three, soon to be four. Frag it, even Prime has one. I think we should get one like this." The red twin pointed to something on the table.

Sira hung her head in defeat. Curiosity had just gotten the best of her, and against her better judgment she approached the warriors.

"Hey guys, I have to ask. What are you talking about?" she hoped she sounded casual.

Sunny gave her a dour look while 'Sides graced her with the largest smile a 'Bot could give.

"I'm trying to talk Sunny into getting our own human. I want one like this." the red brother said as he picked a human sized magazine up off the table, and showed it to Sira.

Sira covered her mouth with a hand as the three page spread dangled before her. A naked woman lay on the hood of a metallic grey Ferrari F430. Platinum blond hair tangled in the chrome air intake under the front of the car. Red plump lips pouted seductively at the viewer.

"Come on Sunny. What's not to like, she's even two-toned." 'Sides quipped.

Sira had to vacate the area - _immediately_. She knew she was going to loose it before she made it to Prime's office. She stood against the wall and took several deep breaths to compose her self. This had to be delivered properly. She rapped her knuckles on the doorframe to get his attention.

Optimus smiled when he saw who had paid him a visit. Usually, Sira was going to bed at this hour and wouldn't bee seen until the afternoon. His joy was short lived as he realized she looked like she was in discomfort.

"Sira, what's wrong? Are you injured?"

She shook her head. "The twins are trying to pick a pet human out of a magazine," her words were stilted. She was having a hard time keeping her composure.

Optimus remained quiet as he processed her words.

"Google _Hustler Magazine_," she suggested.

The big mech's optics widened. He ran a hand over his face. The effect on the woman was immediate. She collapsed into laughing so hard she had to lean against the doorframe for support.

Sira looked up in time to see a particular bad suite rounding the corner. "Hey, Simmons is here, she announced in between chuckles.

The Autobot Commander rubbed his face with both hands and moaned to himself. It was not going to be a good day.

_**XxxX.**_

Special Agent Reggie Simmons was aimlessly walking through the Autobot base. He let his feet guide him while his mind dealt with more pressing issues. Simmons was becoming used to navigating the endless corridors and cross halls. It helped that someone had come through with a black marker and left arrows pointing the directions to more important areas. He had mentioned the graffiti to Prime, the Autobot responded by commenting that perhaps it was time to re-paint. He couldn't tell if the 'Bot was joking or not.

This was not why Simmons was here. He had used the pretense of "checking up" on everyone to get access to the base. Fortunately, it was routine for him to pop in and spot check. But Simmons was actually here to observe Smith. He couldn't go to Keller about removing the man from his post without a valid reason. Simmons had spent a considerable amount of time digging up dirt on the other man. Surprisingly, there was very little; a couple of parking tickets and a bitter ex-wife. Not enough to destroy a man's career for. Hell, Simmons had three ex-wives and Heaven's knew how many parking tickets the Autobots have accumulated. No, this wasn't enough, so he had decided to watch Smith interact with the mechs. It was what Simmons saw that made his feet travel the corridors while he organized his thoughts.

Simmons had found Smith in the canteen. He approached the other man and struck up a conversation. It was when several of the Autobots came in that Agent Smith's behavior changed. The man visibly stiffened when Wheeljack came over to talk. Simmons had been warned to avoid the white and green mech's workshop like his life depended on it - because it did. Otherwise the mech was friendly and inquisitive. Smith's reaction to the inventor was a little extreme in Simmons' opinion. Smith turned away from the 'Bot and wouldn't make eye contact. When the gregarious Wheeljack would ask Smith a direct question, the only response was a grunt.

Simmons wanted to get the man alone and find out if there was a reason for the apparent hostility. He suggested that they go head out to the firing range. Nothing but a couple of guys taking potshots at silhouettes.

Everything became clear to Simmons as the two men walked past the Rec room. Smith stopped and looked in.

" Damn. That's disgusting." Smith growled.

Simmons looked in the room. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, just Sam, Mikeala and Bumblebee playing video games. Then it dawned on Simmons. Bumblebee was sitting on the floor, and the kids were sitting in his lap. One on each leg. The yellow Camaro was gently stroking the back of the boy while he chided his girlfriend about her video gameing skills. Simmons had spent almost three years dealing with the Autobots and their allies. He had become accustomed to seeing the affection the mechs showed their human associates. The gentle touches, the willingness to have a person ride on or in them. Not that any of the 'Bots had shown Simmons that gentleness. His relationship with them was different and that was acceptable to everyone involved. To those around here it was just part of the bond. But to an outsider it would look like something totally different. And, Smith was an outsider.

"What? Looks like they are just playing games," Simmons commented carefully.

"Oh, let me guess. You're pro-robot also. Those kids should be out finding a place to fuck each other's brains out, not hanging around here with the robots. It's not natural to be that close to a machine. What if they go at it in the back seat? It's just weird."

Simmons looked at the other man. "Agent Smith these aliens are not just machines. Once we thought that they were, but when we found out the truth, we had to rethink everything we knew. I wish they were still machines - it would make all of this easier - but they aren't. You've got to get over it. That cocky, yellow, pain-in-the-ass in there would lay down his life for those kids. Just as Ironhide would do anything to protect the Lennox family. If you can't deal with the fact that the robots have formed deep relationships with the people around here, then perhaps you need to be reassigned." He chose his words to unbalance the other man. A tactic he used everyday to cut through the bullshit and find out what people and mechs were really thinking

"You do not have the power to reassign me. Someone around here needs to be objective and observant. I don't think the government is going to like it when the Autobots bring the rest of the family to Earth. Did you know that Optimus Prime is waiting to hear about almost thirty more robots? What happens when they arrive?" Smith all but hissed the words.

"We are aware of the potential for new arrivals. Prime has kept Keller abreast of the situation. He isn't sure of the exact number that will arrive, if any, beyond his second in command and another scout." Simmons had the other man by the arm now, trying to steer him away from the open door of the Rec room.

"You don't get it. We are about to be overrun by these things."

It was then that Simmons did get it. Smith was afraid of the Cybertronians. Not nervous, but terrified. Smith was a xenophobe. He had no business acting as a liaison to the Autobots. One wrong word, one misunderstanding could create a diplomatic nightmare. He knew that Keller had to be informed, and this made Simmons walk the halls. How to word the report that will bury Smith so it wouldn't backlash on himself? You don't go around accusing someone of being a bigot lightly.

Special Agent Simmons had decided on his course of action. He could go back to his hotel room and type the memo to Keller. He hoped that by tomorrow noon he would be on his way back to Washington. He followed the hastily scribbled directions back to the main hallway. He rounded a corner and heard voices coming from the Conference Room. Low, intense and heated, the voice of two people arguing and trying not to let everyone else know.

"Of course I love my country. What has that got to do with anything?" It was Sira, her back was to Simmons. He couldn't see her face, but the look on Smith's face was raw rage. Smith had hold of her upper arm, keeping her from leaving. Simmons slipped into the room. The two were so intent on each other that neither noticed.

"If you were so patriotic, you would realize that they have to remain dependent on the government. It is for the safety of everyone."

"Dependent? Why would the government want them dependent? The country is in a multi-billion dollar deficit and you want them dependent. Do you know how much their basic upkeep costs? Primes shoulder replacement cost enough to feed several families for an entire year. I did it to benefit everyone!" She retorted.

Simmons could see she was trying to pull away, but Smith yanked her back. They were only inches apart.

"You showed the aliens how to make money?!"

"If you would get over what ever issues you have, and talked to them, you would realize that several of them were tradesmen - mechs on their home world. I didn't teach them shit. I just laid out the information, and they figured out how to apply it." Her words were as heated as Smith's.

"You helped set them free. They are a law unto themselves. No one can control them," Smith was yelling now.

The woman laughed, "Did you actually think the Autobots were anything_ but _a law unto themselves?"

Simmons did not like where this was headed. He started to make his way to the fighting pair.

"Optimus would like nothing better than to help humanity with its problems. But, he steps carefully. He won't force or coerce anyone. He wants to teach and guide. Why can't you see that?" her words were heart-felt.

Smith tightened his grip on her and shook the smaller woman roughly. "All I see is a fanatic and a traitor!"

Smith lashed out with the speed of a snake. His curled fist made solid contact and Sira went down hard. Then the enraged man landed a couple of kicks to the prone body.

Simmons yelled and ran towards them. He could hear hurried footfalls coming from down the hall. He shoved Smith back and stood between the two. He wanted to keep the big man away from Sira. Out of the corner of his eye, Simmons saw her curl into a ball and spit blood.

Lennox and Epps came running into the room. The soldiers quickly subdued Agent Smith and removed his weapons from him.

Simmons turned to Sira. She was trying to sit up. Blood was dripping from her nose and mouth. She waved Simmons away.

"You stupid bitch! If you'd had a man between your legs instead of cold metal..." Smith never ended his sentence. What came leaping off the floor was no longer human.

Simmons reacted with training decades old. He grabbed the woman around the waist to stop her. His face was buried in thick fur that smelled like spice and razor shape claws raked the empty air behind his back. Simmons knew the soldiers were yelling something, but he couldn't make it out. His only concern was to stop Sira before someone was hurt.

"Hey, kitten. What's the malfunction?" the words left his mouth before he had a chance to think.

The she-demon trying to crawl over his shoulder turned her entire attention on him. Simmons was standing nose to flat triangular nose with a nightmare. The clawed fingers gripped him tightly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that pain shot through him, but raging adrenaline numbed it and skewed his perception.

He tightened his grip around her middle, and looked into that sleek, panther face to meet feral, intelligent eyes. They stood in a horrific lover's embrace for several long seconds, each trying to predict the others next moves.

She pulled her lips back in a true animalistic snarl. The perfectly white canines were inches from his face, wicked shearing points of the carnassial teeth glittered softly in the light. He could see where her lip had been torn open by Smith's assault. Sira's growl vibrated though his chest. He was wondering if this was the last thing he would see before she tore him apart. The red feline leaned forward until her nose rubbed his in gentle gesture of friendship.

"Agent Semen. Fuck. Off," she growled at him.

Sira twisted and pulled back, breaking the Agent's hold on her. She stepped back and looked around, her cold gaze falling upon her intended quarry. She wiped her injured, bloody face on her sleeve and stepped around Simmons. Smith made small whimpering noises as she stalked towards him. Those little sounds were sending her instincts into frenzy. This man had just become prey, something weak to slaughter, and it was hard to keep control.

The once mighty Agent Smith tried to back away, then tripped and fell. Landing on his back, he scrambled to sit up. This was all Sira needed, she dropped down to all fours and moved with a liquid grace to close the distance. When she placed a clawed hand on his ankle the unmistakable sound of a pistol's hammer being pulled echoed within the room.

She looked at Lennox. He had drawn his 9mm Beretta, the weapon was pointed at the floor, not her. The anguish was visible on the soldier's face. "Sira, don't make me do it. Don't make have to tell Optimus why."

She met the Captain's gaze and held it until she was inches from Smith. Only then did she dare to look at her tormentor. She was crouched between the man's legs, a hand resting on each thigh.

Growls accented her words as she spoke to him, "If you ever come near what is mine, I will tear you apart. And feed you bit, by tiny bloody bit to the hounds of Hell."

The acrid, salty smell of urine filled her nose. She quickly backed away from the pool spreading under the Agent. She turned and left the room, her long tail curled at the end as not to touch the floor.

Simmons leaded against the wall, sliding down as his legs gave out and hands shook uncontrollably. The soldiers had flipped Smith on his face and were restraining him, even though the man wasn't putting up a fight.

Simmons laughed a twisted laugh. He looked down to see his shirt was stained red. Several long tears were visible where Sira had grabbed him. "I don't think we're the top of the food chain anymore."

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N:** A picture of Sira is located on my Deviantart page. Link below. (just remove the spaces)

vermilionbird. /art /Sira-78645704

If this doesn't work there is a link on my profile page for .

To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Tada. To - **MajinBakaHentai** and **mdnytryder **- I actually like Simmons. He's cocky, obnoxious and has had a few too many double venti Macchiatos. He is soooo fun to write. To **hermonine** - Thank you. Hope you like this chapter also. To fennecfox03 - It's not impaling, but does this suffice? To - **Punk Autobot** - Thank you. I have to keep Simmons and the wins apart. They would steal the show. To **everyone** - Thank you for continuing to read. I hope you continue to do so


	19. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: **I own everything! Yeah, right.

**Rating: T** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

A round of applause to **Lady Sunflower** and** okami-myrrhibis**. Wtihout thier wonderful Beta-skills, this wouldn't be near as good.

Please read and review.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Aftermath**_

"What in the name of the Pit is going on!?" a deep baritone voice thundered.

All eyes turned towards the Autobot leader. His formidable mass blocked most of the doorway as he surveyed the scene before him. Simmons was shirtless, while Ratchet tended to vicious looking gouges along the agent's shoulder. Captain Lennox had Special Agent Randolf Smith face down on the floor, a knee planted squarely in the other man's back, while twisting an arm to a painful angle. Epps was sitting nearby. He had a loose grip on a pistol. No one said a word. They all stared at the Prime.

"What has happened here?" Optimus demanded answers and wasn't going to be denied.

The soldiers exchanged looks with each other and Ratchet. The medic turned his attention towards his patient, ignoring his infuriated commander. After several tense minutes, Lennox broke the silence.

"Randy, do you want to tell the pissed-off alien, or should I?" The ranger gave the arm he was holding a yank. The restrained agent whimpered in pain.

Optimus lowered himself so he could look the prone man in the eye. "Tell me what?" he growled.

Smith closed his eyes and turned his head, muttering quietly. The mech recognized the man's utterances as an attempt to evoke the favors of a deity. He looked at Lennox.

"I don't know how it happened; I'm just dealing with this pile of shit. Ask Simmons."

Prime turned his head and looked at Simmons. The man hissed in pain as the CMO carefully swabbed the wounds with an antiseptic.

The disgust was evident on Simmons' face. "No one taught Smith that you don't go around hitting women. No matter how annoying she is. Especially - ouch - one that isn't human and can get all furry and rip a face off. He messed her up pretty good, too."

Optimus took a few nanoseconds to sort through the man's flippant words. Parts of it didn't make sense and he was in no mood to deal with semantics and translations. All he knew was that Sira was injured and Smith was the guilty party. For now that was enough; the rest could be sorted out later when everyone calmed down.

"Where is she?" he asked.

Nobody had an answer, and nobody would look him in the optics. Optimus muttered a long line of Cybertronian curses in frustration.

"William, release the - human," he ordered.

The captain looked from Prime to Epps to Ratchet to Simmons and back to Prime. He shrugged, releasing his grip on the arm and stepped off the other man. Before Smith could move, Optimus snatched him up. He held the urine soaked man in a tight grip, while Smith squirmed and pleaded for his life.

"Hey, Big Guy." It was Simmons, "your girl's changed. She looks like a big kitty cat or something. Just thought you'd like to know - ouch - damn it. That hurts."

Half way to Central Ops, Prime found an empty shipping crate. Dropping Agent Smith inside, he slammed the lid on and stacked another crate on top. The makeshift cage would have to do, because he didn't trust himself right now. The urge to permanently eradicate that waste of carbon was too appealing. He turned a deaf audio sensor to the man's sobbing as he continued to his original destination.

Wheeljack was sitting at the displays. He moved out of the way when he saw the look on the Autobot Commander's face plates. Typing rapidly, Optimus located Sira's most likely location.

"Shut it down, 'Jack. I do not want any communication in or out of here until I sort this out. That is an order."

The green and white mech didn't ask. He typed furiously, overriding commands and wondering what the slag had happened.

_**XxxX.**_

He found her clothes in the elevator. Shirt, pants, boots, even undergarments, all shredded and bloody. This did nothing to calm him. Primus, why did she have to run off? He hoped that eventually, she would trust him enough to stay put, or seek him out when things went to the Pit.

He didn't have far to go. She was just beyond the end of the runway, on her knees, with her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Several feet away were McCormick and Koehn. They had their rifles sighted on Sira, fingers on the triggers.

His energon froze. "Stand down! Do not fire! Stand down!" Optimus yelled in desperation.

The two soldiers snapped their heads around at the sound. The mech covered the ground in a few quick strides. His foot came down between the men and Sira. Koehn was the first to disengage his weapon. He hollered for McCormick to do the same. Optimus ordered the two men inside the base. As they walked away, he turned his attention to Sira.

The woman was getting to her feet. One arm still snug around her middle, while the other gingerly touched her lip. Her blunt triangular ears laid back against her head in a gesture he could not read.

She was watching him intently with inhuman eyes: large brilliantly green irises surrounding deep pupils that glowed with an inner light. Those were her true eyes he realized, not the human ones she so commonly wore to hide her wild soul. He was truly seeing her for the first time.

He carefully observed the creature before him. Delicate black and white markings accented her haunting eyes like a mask and her fur glowed and shimmered where the late afternoon sun touched it. A breeze ruffled the mane on her leonine head and her shapely legs ended in strong paws. Blood had dripped from her face onto her neck and chest. She was unlike anything he had ever seen.

"Sira." His voice was soft, barely audible. Her ears perked forward at the sound.

She sat back down; her movements were stiff and painful looking.

"I'm sorry, Optimus. Just give me a few minutes to gather some things and I'll leave." The words had reopened the cut on her lip. She hung her head.

"You're not going anywhere," he stated.

"I've failed you. I didn't keep my end of the deal, and you shouldn't pay for my mistake."

"You haven't failed me. You have surprised me, but you haven't failed me."

Sira shook her head in denial. "I wanted to kill him. I wanted to tear him open and watch him die slowly. I am so tired of his superiority and snide comments. If Simmons hadn't have - oh, God, I think I hurt Simmons." Her head snapped up and she looked around as if trying to find the man.

"Shh. Calm yourself. Agent Simmons was injured, but his wounds are not life threatening."

Prime scanned Sira. Her injuries, though painful, were not serious; a torn lip and deep bruising in her abdominal area and possibly a fractured rib. Ratchet would have to examine her further. He was amazed at the way the living bone, muscle and sinew had reshaped itself into a sleeker, more powerful form.

She looked at him, the anguish evident in her eyes. "I failed to keep control and almost killed a man in anger. Each death proves I am no better than an animal. If Simmons hadn't have stopped me…"

"I do not believe Agent Simmons could have stopped you if you didn't wish him to." Optimus felt the truth in those words in his spark. Sira had allowed the agent to stop her. He didn't know if she lost control and regained it or never really lost control. All that mattered was her final decision to let Smith live.

He reached out to touch her and hesitated inches away, but she closed the distance between them, her head rubbing against his finger tips. He cupped his hand protectively around her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his palm.

"Do you think I am proud of every decision I've made over the eons? I have regretted every soldier I had to send to his death in this endless war, every life I took on the battlefield, but this does not make me any less of a mech. You are no more an animal than I am." He stroked her, the warm fur tickling the tactile sensors on his fingers.

She laid her head against his palm, the rest of her body following as she collapsed into his hand. He scooped her up and held her.

_**XxxX.**_

"How is everyone?' he asked

"I feel everyone will live. Agent Simmons' wounds are superficial and should heal on their own. Agent Smith has finally stopped pleading for his life. Speaking of Agent Smith, are you going to leave him in the crate until they come and get him tomorrow?"

"Yes," was all Optimus had to say on that matter.

The medic shook his head. "I am not sure this is humane treatment. "

"The - _man_ - has been given food, water and a waste receptacle. His basic needs have been met. He should be grateful I haven't decided to pinch his head off." The Autobot commander slid a cube of Lamborghini made high grade across the table to his friend. "How is Sira?" 

Ratchet took the offering and sat down opposite Prime. "I think the human phrase 'dead to the world' is applicable. It appears that she uses inordinate amounts of energy to change her form, and doing so twice in one day has left her completely drained. It did make repairing her lip easier, since she was unconscious at the time."

The two sat in the darkened room, each lost in the swirling pink of the energon. Finally, Ratchet spoke.

"What did Secretary Keller say?"

Prime waved his hand dismissively. "He apologized for Smith's actions, and made reference to a future meeting. I believe the government is concerned that we may cut off all negotiations, or even retaliate, because of this debacle. I assured Keller that neither will occur. Secretary Keller is also concerned about information on Sira's shape-shifting abilities being leaked. He wants her to remain a secret. He has concerns about researchers wanting to try and figure out how her abilities work and if they could be applied to humans."

"He is afraid she will become an experiment."

"As am I." The Autobot leader sighed over his drink. "I now understand her hesitancy to trust anyone."

"What are they going to do about Agent Smith?" the medic asked.

"I informed the Secretary that stripping him of his position and power would suffice."

"Have you discussed this with Sira? I am certain she could file criminal charges against the man."

"There is nothing to discuss, Ratchet. I am the Prime and that is my final decision on the matter."

His friend ignored the tone. "You are not her Prime. You cannot speak for her."

"Why not? No one else will."

_**XxxX.**_

"Are you actually going to pass judgment on her based on some terribly made horror film?"

"Those films were made from legends centuries old. A lot of cultures have stories about shape shifters."

"So, McCormick, you are saying that it is acceptable to treat someone differently, because of some primitive mythos that has been told over a few generations? If you follow this logic out, then it would be a reasonable conclusion the have slaves and witch hunts. I was under the assumption that your culture was attempting to treat all peoples with fairness and respect. She is a highly intelligent person, and until Smith pushed her too far, you seemed to enjoy her company."

"I know that, Ratchet. It is just uncomfortable knowing what she is."

The medics blue optics blazed at the soldier. "You knew she wasn't human before. Why do her shapeshifting abilities make a difference?"

"Because, she looks like something that could eat a person. It's just creepy."

"If it would make anyone feel better, I find the thought of eating a human absolutely disgusting on several levels." Everyone turned to see two iridescent points in the darkness. Sira walked out of the blackness and into the glow of the fire light. She chose a seat away from everyone. Optimus gave a small smile towards her.

Since the incident with Agent Smith four days ago, she had been avoiding contact with the humans. Prime decided it was time for another Sandhill Meeting. Inexplicably, these gatherings around a bonfire seemed to stabilize and solidify the group. He was relieved to see Sira had decided to come.

David McCormick stared into the dancing flames. He was ashamed and embarrassed that she had heard his words. "I owe you an apology."

Sira looked over the fire to the man. "You owe me nothing. I haven't taken offense to your words if that if how you truly feel. I ask that you remember I am not some storybook monster. I want, only to be treated with 'fairness and respect', like any other person."

They all weighed her words.

"Can I ask a question?" It was Stevenson. "Does it hurt when you - you know?"

She smiled with her human face. "Change? It can."

"Well," started Koehn. "I want you to know, I like the tail. It's sexy."

Sira tolerated the good natured ribbing from the soldiers. Every so often she would send Optimus a longsuffering look. He would return this with various expressions of his own. Eventually the discussion turned south, and the Special Ops members recounted some of their wildest tales. Not to be out done, several of the Autobots told of exploits that shocked all those present.

The fire had died down, and one by one the humans had left. Even most of the Autobots had decided it was time to recharge. Ironhide, Optimus and Sira were left watching the dying coals.

The Autobot leader held his hand out so the small woman could jump on. He lifted her up to his eye level. His face plates shifted to a frown as he looked at her.

"You are not healing as fast as expected."

She smiled at his concern. "I can either shape shift or heal. I don't get to do both, so _you _will just have to settle for me healing humanly slow."

This seemed to placate the mech and his features relaxed. They watched the black weapons specialist pile handfuls of dirt on the pit to smother the remaining embers. Prime placed Sira on his shoulder. She shifted around a bit, trying to find a position both secure and comfortable.

"I'm glad you came this evening."

"Mmm. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Nothing says 'good time' like a bunch of jumpy Special Ops guys that think you're a freak."

He turned to look at her out of the side of his optic. "Now you are just being sarcastic. They are openminded, reasonable men. Give them some time to adjust."

Sira said nothing in return. There was little need to acknowledge his words when they both knew he was right. She turned to look behind them. Her eyes penetrated the darkness beyond.

"What's out there?" Prime asked nonchalantly.

"Maybe monsters," she replied.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N:** I am so glade everyone seemed to enjoy that last chapter. I was a nervous wreck posting it. When the reviews started comming in I wouldn't even read them for a while. Yeah, I get Simmons. I figured him the first time I watched the movie (once it was past the whole capture and torture Bumblebee thing). I don't know if I should tell this, but whenever I write Sideswipe I think of stuff my husband would do and say. He has an over-the-top perverted sense of humor.

To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Glad you liked. The modern stereo-typical mail order bride is a middle aged Slavic woman with lots of facial hair. Can you imagine 'Sides reaction. (No offense towards middle aged Slavic women with facial hair) To **MajinBakaHentai** - In my family asshole is a good thing. To **fennecfox03** - In the movie, Simmons IS a fun asshole. Thanks. To hermonine - I've been drawing Sira for almost 10 years. This the only picture of her I liked. To **Tiamat1972 **- Gracious thank you's. I acutally hear John Tur-- voice in my head when I write Simmons. If the voice isn't there the line isn't used. To **Yami-Yugi3** - Here you go. To **Punk Autobot** - Can't you just see the twins crusin' da hood justa slappin' thier hos that don't make no dough :). That's as gangsta as I can get. To **Leggy-poo** - Please, if you can, use the quote, and in case you haven't noticed the writer is fun in a twisted sorta way. Thank you.

**To everyone** - Thank you for staying this long. I have been sick the last few days, so I sat on the sofa and wrote the next 5 chapters. I would like to get this wrapped up by Botcon time, but I don't think it will happen.


	20. Rising Storm

**Disclaimer **- Seriously, does anyone think I own the Transformers? Sheesh.

**Rating: T** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut.

Special Thanks to **okami-myrrhibis **for checking my spelling, grammar and fall into the plot-holes.

Comments, question and reviews are welcome.

_**XxxX.**_

_**The Rising Storm**_

A massive purple/grey thunderhead loomed in the distance. Its fingerlike clouds were already darkening the sky overhead. The beast moved a the relentless certainty, confident it would succeed in blotting out the receding sun. Sira watched as sheet lightning flashed and flickered around the heart of the storm. She didn't need a weatherman or sophisticated Doppler radar to tell her this was a dangerous monster. She could feel it pound at her soul, charge though her blood and light up her eyes.

The storm's wet, icy breath replaced the usual sirocco that moved around this region. Turning her face to the wind it felt as if nature had created this storm for the single purpose of wiping all traces of life from the planet. An involuntary growl slipped from her and the raging storm answered with its own booming voice. The thunder rolled and vibrated around the heavens.

It had started whispering to her. Silky words promising power and glory were hidden within the echoing thunder. The storm wanted to tell her dark secrets and tragedies yet to happen. She ignored the soft words, knowing that the furious energy of the tempest was a fleeting thing. She had found something stronger, and more passionate to focus herself around; an ancient grace to help quell her own raging fires.

She could see the squall line coming ever closer. The temptation to join with the storm was gone, but she could bask in the raw power and violent beauty of this furious behemoth.

A lightning strike raised the hair on the back of her neck. That was enough. Sira retreated before a superior force. Safe and snug underground she sought out the companionship of her friend and anchor.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus had given up trying to teach Sira how to play a greatly modified Cybertronian game. Instead, he resigned himself to watching her pace around his office. The arrival of the spring storm had her literally climbing the walls.

She excused herself and headed outside for a little while. He didn't like the idea of her unprotected and vulnerable with the electrical disturbance entering their area, but he trusted her judgment and figured she would seek shelter when necessary.

After several breems, Sira returned to his side. Her hair was ruffled and he could detect faint traces of ozone on her, but she was calmer, almost serene.

_**XxxX.**_

He sat watching a female jackrabbit nurse her young. The recent rains had transformed the arid landscape into a lush, green carpet of grass and wild flowers. But he wasn't here to contemplate the diversity of life this planet produces. He was here seeking solitude to sort his thoughts.

The Secretary of Defense and other delegates had left the base. The meeting had been long and arduous for both sides. He felt certain that the humans left with a better sense of who they were dealing with, for he had dug his heals in and balked at their every attempt to negotiate. Finally, some brighter-than-average General asked what _he _wanted. He laid the Autobots' grievances on the table and explained that a few things were going to change.

Several Earth hours later and a fair amount of yelling from some of the men, concessions and compromises were made on both sides. He felt a little better about their place in their adopted home. They still had a long way to go, but strides ware being made in the right direction.

Optimus also came away with a better sense of who General McKaffee was. Oh, yes the man was in attendance. He had weaseled his way through the Disciplinary Hearings and came out with only a "formal admonishment". The man was more slippery than oil on glass. He never denied talking to Agent Randolph Smith, because they were friends and communicated regularly, but the General did state that he tried to encourage Smith to call Secretary Keller instead. This was a bold face lie given under oath. Prime had eavesdropped on most of their conversations and knew the truth, but his hands were tied. It was his word against that of the Five Star General's, and humans tended to frown on the fact that others might overhear their conversations. Something's were just better left alone for a while.

McKaffee showed absolutely no nervousness of him or the other Autobots. This was a source of concern for Optimus. Fear and misunderstanding could be worked through with education and an open dialog, but the way the General strutted through the base like he owned it, made Prime wonder if the man had darker, more twisted motivations. He wouldn't be the first human to see the Cybertronians as a resource to be harvested.

Optimus was glad Sira was gone during the meeting. He took great pleasure telling the General that "she was off base" when the man asked to meet her. The thought of that Pit-spawned human even being in the same room as his Sira filled him with revulsion. _His_ Sira? Primus, he was starting to sound like Bumblebee with _his _Samor Ironhide with_ his _Annabelle. Since when did they become so possessive of the Earthlings they shared their lives with? Later he would ask Ratchet about _his_ thoughts on the matter.

But his Sira was just unpredictable enough he wasn't sure of her behavior following an introduction. If her reaction when he told her about results of the hearing were any clue, there would be bloodshed. That was one time Optimus was glad Sira wasn't a Cybertronian femme. Had she been one, he was sure he would have been picking his aft up off the floor after he broke the sour news to her. As it was she had ignored him for several days after calling him a world's largest addleheaded dolt, among other, more colorful terms.

The mother jackrabbit had hopped off, leaving her babies to hide under some brush as a coyote wandered by searching for his next meal. The wild canid stopped and sniffed the air. He was down wind of the young jacks. The coyote stopped and observed the giant sitting nearby. Optimus waved his hand and barked, "Not today."

The coyote lopped off looking over its shoulder to make sure that the giant wasn't giving chase. There were plenty of young jackrabbits this time of year and most of them weren't hiding at the foot of the Prime of Cybertron.

The day was waning away. Lacy cirrus clouds were taking on a hint of rose and the sky was turning a deeper blue.

Optimus realized he was tired of playing dignitary. He hated all the hand shaking and small talk it took to get things accomplished. He hated it here and he hated it on Cybertron. Whenever some politician needed to be stroked and soothed, he had sent his brother; he had been so much better at it, so much subtler. But that was long ago. A time before ...

As the firmament above deepened to blazing magentas, fiery oranges and impenetrable blacks his thought turned from the present to the past. He visited what he had and what he had lost. He was worlds and centuries away. He never noticed one of the baby jackrabbits cautiously sniff his foot.

The presence of another brought him from the gleaming memories of his home world. He watched the female make her way to him. As usual, she was barefoot and walking on the balls of her feet. It was a habit of hers he had only recently noticed. Ratchet once scolded her for not wearing protection on her feet, and she rolled her eyes while she pulled out the glass shard. The medic almost has a meltdown every time he catches her without footwear.

Sira was taking her time coming to him. It gave him time to watch her. She moved with a grace he had yet to see in any human and that alone set her apart. She ran her hand along his foot; her greeting to him. He held his hand out to her; his invitation to her. She jumped on and quickly climbed up his arm to his shoulder.

"You seemed like you were worlds away. Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

He knew she wouldn't be offended if he remained silent. This time he chose his words carefully. "I was wishing Elita was here. I would like to show this to her." He gestured to last vestiges of the day and the way it painted the desert landscape in long shadows. "There is nothing like this on Cybertron."

Sira's eyes glowed softly in the fading light. She cocked her head to the side in an unspoken question. He knew the gesture, she was curious and wanted him to continue.

"Elita-1 is my spark mate." He said evenly, watching the female's reaction.

She gave him a small knowing smile. "Bet you can't wait to get... her? ... here."

He heard the question around the pronoun and knew she had heard his use of it. For Sira to be so opinionated and stubborn, she rarely made assumptions. "Using biological comparisons Elita would be considered feminine in nature. But, she won't be coming to Earth."

Sira frowned at him. He could almost see the thoughts running through her head. There were times he could read her like a data pad.

"Elita was and always will be my spark mate." He watched Sira face fall as she realized the meaning of his words, inside he winced. He wasn't sure if it was a selfish need or a desire to give part of himself, but he wanted Sira to know. It was something he almost never discussed, but tonight he made an exception.

He continued, needed to banish the silence around them. "She was killed in an assassination attempt by the Decepticons. They attacked us at the Council, and succeeded in wiping out most Cybertron governing body. Ratchet was injured so severely, he went into stasis lock. He tried to stay functioning long enough to stabilize her, but his own energon loss was just too much. I think he still blames himself for her death. She went offline before I could reach her, before anyone could do anything for her. When she died I felt ... I felt her being ripped from my own spark. My Autobots were able to defend the Council Chambers against any further Decepticon assaults, but the damage had been done. Twenty-seven died in the end and not a one of them a slaggin 'Con."

The words hung in the air like a bitter mist. He couldn't go into any greater detail; the pain was still there and threatened to choke him. Mercifully, his companion said nothing. She shifted on his shoulder and laid her head against his. He could feel her running her hand along the back of his head, tracing the grooves and rises. He shut his optics and let the small woman console him. He could feel her body heat warming a place in the crook of his neck, as her presence warmed a place in his spark. He hated himself for bringing her into his pain, but she was one of the few he thought he could confide in. He wondered of Bumblebee shared any of his personal horrors with Sam or Mikeala.

Was this why they were becoming so fiercely protective of their humans? Were these small organics a balm to the wounds that the war had inflicted upon the Autobots? Optimus didn't have an answer for all of his questions, but for an evening he didn't need answers. He had a sympathetic soul to be with and that was enough.

The stars turned overhead and they talking about a world on the other side of the galaxy.

_**XxxX.**_

Wheeljack came sliding into Prime's office. Without a preamble he said, "I think I've found evidence of several protoforms entering the atmosphere."

The two mechs ran down the corridor to Central Ops. Wheeljack sat in the chair while his commander stood looking over his shoulder. Calling up the meteorological readings, he pointed out the elevated levels of ions in an area that was currently devoid of any natural phenomenon or human activity. The levels indicated up to four entry paths. Typing rapidly, he showed the Prime satellite images that contained both perfectly immaculate land and long, burning ruts in the ground.

"Sir, I have calculated the angle of possible entry and these are photos of the most likely landing sights. As you can see there are only two actual landing areas. You realize what this probably means?" Wheeljack looked to Optimus hoping the larger mech would find fault with his discovery.

"Seekers. Send out an Autobot hail just incase. I need to inform the President that we may have four new Decepticons on the planet. And 'Jack, don't tell anyone that you hacked a military satellite."

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: **I hope this was better than the last chapter. The author was very unsatisfied with that one.

To **Fae Child19 **- I figure if one deals with alien robots everyday, then one may be a little more opened than most. Oh, and Smith isn't gone yet. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - No matter what the species, there always appears to be more bad guys than good guys. I won't get into the practical whys and wherefore's of shapeshifting here. Just not enough room. But I also sigh with you. To **technodragon78 **- Thank you. Thank you. And thank you. The Autobots are a very verbose group. They force me to learn new words. :D To **Yami-Yugi3 **- here is your next serving. To **fennecfox03 **- Can't you just see OP shoving him into a crate. The big guy may be noble and kind, but he does have his limits. To **Punk Autobot **- Glad someone else appreciates irony. Thanks. And there are monsters out there, and Sira should fear them.


	21. Fourth Interlude

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the transformers. I do not own the transformers. I do not own the transformers. I do not own the transformers. (Walks away mumbling)

**Rating: **T or R - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, and smut of the slashy kind.

Thanks to my betas **Lady Sunflower **and **okami-myrrhibis**. They make this readable.

Please read and review. I don't bite … much.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Fourth Interlude**_

_Oh, my_.

The sight before her had her stopped dead in her tracks. She didn't mean to see it. She didn't want to see it, but she just looked over and there it was. Fortunately, she didn't have her mouth hanging open like a damn fool; it was bad enough she had blinked several times when Wheeljack chuckled softly. Remembering her manners she pivoted gracefully, leaving the area so the two mechs could have their privacy. Hopefully, neither would be aware of the intrusion.

She leaned in his doorway waiting for him to finish the task at hand and notice her. This was the threshold to Prime's personal domain, and she didn't like barging in without a _really_ good reason. He had stressed repeatedly that she didn't require an invitation to enter, but life among her own had taught her harsh lessons about dominance and submission. Although, Optimus was her friend, he was also the Dominant around here and deserved to be _occasionally_ treated as such. So she waited for him to invite her in.

She barely had time to get comfortable before those piercing blue optics traveled over her, and he waved her in.

"What's on your mind?" he asked as he sat her on his desk. A while back they had thrown all pretenses of greetings out the window. It saved time.

She sucked her bottom lip in; unsure how to proceed. Optimus always answered her questions without making her feel like a nosey idiot, and that was exactly how she felt right now. She paused. "What is the exact nature of Ratchet and Wheeljack's relationship?" _There she said it, no going back now._

The Autobot leader leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his formidable chest. "Why?"

"I was walking by the work shop and Wheeljack had Ratchet pinned to the table. It looked rather intimate."

"It probably was rather intimate. With everyone off the base but us, most likely they decided to share some quality time together."

Sira was relieved. She had read that situation correctly. When dealing with giant, alien robots things were not always as they seemed and the other thoughts that crossed her mind were too ghastly to contemplate further.

"Okay, big guy, I have some questions now."

"I would be surprised if you didn't."

She shot an annoyed glance at her friend. "So they are a couple?"

Optimus sat for a few minutes. "They are not truly sparkbonded like … like I was, but there is an understanding of exclusivity on Wheeljack's part."

Sira cocked her head to the side. "Why 'on Wheeljack's part'? Are they together or are they not?"

Optimus rubbed his face. She recognized that gesture; this was going to get deep.

"Ratchet was built as a medic." the commander started. "His primary drive is to care for others, and part of that drive is a desire to interface whenever he feels it is beneficial. It helps with the diagnostic aspect of his duties if he has a lower inhibition towards the act. However, most 'Bots consider interfacing a private matter and try to avoid it at all costs, unless it is with their mate."

She couldn't control the lopsided grin that was attached to her face. "Are you trying to … oh, so delicately … say that Ratchet is a slut and Wheeljack has accepted this and continues the relationship anyways?"

"Yes. No. The word 'slut' has such negative connotations. All Cybertronian medics are ... interested in others. It is part of their core programming. It takes a very special spark to accept and understand this. As far as I can tell, Wheeljack only interfaces with Ratchet and Ratchet is … Ratchet"

_Oh, Hells Bells_.

"So they were … interfacing?" At least the term was nicer than some of the words humans used or some of the words she had been known to use.

"Perhaps. I cannot say for certain. There are several ways in which we are able to be intimate."

Her curiosity was running rampant now. She knew the Autobots formed strong relationships with one another and that these relationships lasted a lifetime. But the idea that there was an actual, physical joining to the union never entered her mind.

She had to be as clinical as possible. This was new territory and she was going to step lightly, hoping not to offend. "They were together, and they had their chest armor opened and it really was beautiful. They …"

Optimus held his hand up to stop her. "They were sparkbonding or sharing. Interfacing is a physical connection to comfort or pleasure another. It can also be used for data transfer, as a diagnostic tool, or as a cruel form of torture and interrogation, but there is always has an intimate aspect to it. But sparkbonding is the actual merging of two sparks. It is only done between those that trust and care for one another. And yes, it is beautiful. It allows for a sharing of the deepest, most private areas of a person's being. It goes beyond the surface emotions and lays a soul or spark open for the other to experience and explore. To us it is the most intimate act that can be performed; the ultimate display of devotion."

Those optics bore into her with a frightening intensity. She hadn't been nervous of him since she realized he wasn't going to hurt her, but she was nervous now. Her heart was hammering in her chest, as his words danced along her skin. The realization what those words meant to her personally sank in with a shocking clarity. There was a subtle undertone to what he said, a hidden meaning.

The hum of energy and life that surrounded Prime was normally comforting to her, but right now it felt overwhelming. She could fell her own powers rising in response to some unknown stimulus. Her heat and fire wanted to play along his metal frame. Shitshitshit. She needed to leave.

She nimbly jumped to his leg and then onto the floor. Even that brief touch threatened to undo her. It took all she had not to run out of his office. She was proud of the way she turned, smiled and waved goodbye. The excuse of a trip to the little girls' room was always useful.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus watched Sira leave. He made no attempt to stop her, and he wasn't going to follow her. Her reaction did not surprise him, he had expected this. He knew she had heard the meaning imbedded in his words, and she needed her space to think about what had just transpired.

It might take months before she was ready, but eventually curiosity would get the better of her. It always did.

_**XxxX.**_

She couldn't think clearly and had to siphon off some of this energy coursing within her. His words were echoing in her head. That deep commanding voice had taken on such a different quality during their discussion. Was it a warning, an invitation or just her imagination? She didn't know right now.

Sira returned to her room and pulled a box out from under her desk; rummaging around until she found what she needed. Looking over the gem stones resting inside, she chose a deep, red ruby to work with. It was one of her favorites; the fact that it was almost ten karats and the color of blood didn't hurt any. For years she had been meaning to do _something_ with it. Smiling, she remembered that she had nicked it from the Temple on her last visit. Actually, most of the jewels she used for personal pieces came from the Temple. What was the point of these amazing beauties if no one enjoyed them?

Next she pulled out a small ingot of gold. She stared at the yellow metal that Optimus had given to her. She ran a shaky hand across the smooth surface. There hadn't been any fore warming. Nothing. He had just walked into the Rec room, sat it before her and left. When she caught up to him to thank him, he shrugged it off and said he thought she could use it eventually. She hadn't been able to make heads or tales of her feelings about such an extravagant gift. Now the lustrous

metal shimmered in a totally different light.

Eventually had changed to now, and she could use it. The soft metal made a good focus for her energies. The process of sculpting the metal took concentration and she had to clear her mind of all other thoughts.

Her father had made sure she had numerous coping strategies for when things got rough, and this was her favorite. It allowed most of her mind to focus on something other than the problem at hand. Usually by the time a piece was halfway finished she could think. "exercises for the soul" he called it.

She started with a simple shape and subtle embellishments. A stone like this didn't need anything complicated to set it off.

Sira wasn't sure how long she sat working the gold into a pendent to house the ruby, but she almost ruined it entirely when something large and hard touched the top of her head. She cursed in her native tongue and looked up. Wheeljack was standing above her rubbing his finger like it stung.

At least it wasn't Optimus. She wasn't ready to go there, yet.

"Hi, 'Jack. What do you need?" she asked as she continued to work on the pendent.

The 'Bot leaned down to watch her mold and shape the metal with just her will. The pendent was almost finished. Had she not become used to his insatiable curiosity, she would have banished him from her room. She hated it when people watched over her shoulder.

"I was wondering if you would like to run an errand with me. Did you know that when you are manipulating metal, you have this energy around you? And it feels odd; not bad, just odd." He said it like that was the coolest thing. "Hey, can you penetrate 'Bot armor? You know, melt through it?" Leave it to Wheeljack to go from jewelry making to weapons

"Yes, but it's pretty impractical. Mech armor is thick, heavy and alive. The life force alone creates its own set of problems to work around. Even if that is taken out of the equation, I still need a focus, something to concentrate the power in, usually I kike to use my sword. Also, I have to have direct contact otherwise the energy is too diffused, and all my opponent would have to do is step on me. Going against a Cybertronian one on one would be suicidal, an act of total desperation." She took a soft cloth and polished the pendent. It was done; all she had to do was attach the bail. That could wait until later. Turning to face the engineer she asked "What is this errand you speak of and why does it involve me?"

The inventor was looking at her in an odd way; his processor had gone into overdrive. Great, the mad scientist found a new toy to play with, and it was her. Fortunately, Optimus had banned all "small organics" from entering Wheeljack's workshop. There was even a line drawn on the door; eight feet off the ground. Next to line it said, "You must be at least this tall and metallic to enter." She was safe.

"I need some supplies from the electrical supply store. Some parts were recently damaged and I need someone to go in and buy replacements for me. Also, you look like you could get out for a while."

The image of what had _recently_ occurred in his work shop to damage the, afore mentioned, parts blinked into her head. She shoved it away. Catching someone in the throws of passion wasn't new. She and Jal had shared a sleeping chamber with Roke and his mate. A nice, big, furry pile of bodies was a wonderful way to stay warm, but it didn't provide much in the way of privacy for randy lovers. It was just part of life at the Temple.

She knew that she was being set up. Wheeljack was nice enough, but he rarely caught on to the subtleties of organic emotions. Someone had put him up to getting her off the base, and she had a good idea who was involved. Fine, she would play along.

Standing, she gathered her boots and backpack. Shoving her sword, some money and ID into the bag she motioned for him to lead the way.

Nestled inside the pearl white Shelby GR-1, Sira decided to give the issue a rest. Optimus was her friend and she trusted him completely and above all others. There was no reason to get bent out of shape over something that was, most likely a misunderstanding on her part. Heavens, knows she and Optimus have had a lot of misunderstandings; they are hard to avoid when two radically different cultures rub against each other. No matter what, she would stand by his side. That's what you do for the ones you love.

"Hey 'Jack, do you think we could stop for ice cream?"

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: **I'm so proud. I was listening to the TF Musical Score while cleaning house and my three year old started yelling "transformers" when he heard the music. Then he wanted to watch the movie. I have to skip the part where Barricade has his aft handed to him by Bumblebee. The boy cries because " 'Cade has ouchy."

To **Ladyofhtebookworms **- Soft and squishy and warm and fuzzy. The ultimate snuggly. To **Yami-Yugi3 **- As you requested. To **Fea Child19 **- The bunnies came from a discussion on TF2007fun at LJ. I was trying to harness a plot bunny. Exorcise the fluffy demon. To **Fennecfox03 **and **Punk** **Autobot** - Thank you and Thank you. We had our first Spring Thunderstorm while I was writing that. I live in the heart of tornado ally, and everyone watches the storms. We judge how bad it will be by the number of storm chases sitting on the hill outside of town.


	22. Mistakes

**Disclaimer** - Dear Hasbro, I'm just having fun for a little while. You can have them back when I'm done playing. Don't sue. You'll get more money by letting us buy the toys for the kiddies.

**Rating: T** - Language, violence, sexual situations, sexual humor, possible smut, character death.

Thanks goes to the wonderful Betas **Okami-myrrhibis** and **Lady Sunflower**. They help repair my mistakes.

Please read and review.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Mistakes**_

Simmons could hear her singing from the hallway. One would think that with a sultry voice like that she could carry a tune, but Sira had a vocal range of about four notes.

He looked in. She was wearing ear buds and cooking while singing her heart out to America, totally unaware that she was being watched, the room was empty except for her. He wasn't surprised that she was alone. The military boys may say that they were all fine having a shapeshifter in residence, but Simmons has seen the wary looks they give her. She was aware of those sideways glances and tended to stay away from the Special Ops team unless one of the Autobots was nearby. Simmons liked being on the outside of this hodge-podge group. He could sit back, observe the dynamics playing out and not be involved personally. Right now, though, it was time to get involved and say, "Hello".

"I've been through the desert on a horse with no name. It felt good to be out of the rain. In the desert you can remember your name cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain. La la lalala … What do you want?"

Had she spotted him. Sira gave a single sniff then a delicate snort. She hadn't spotted him, she had smelled him. One of these times he was going to have to remember not to wear cologne. Simmons took a seat at the bar, across from the cooktop Sira was at. She placed a coffee mug in front of him and filled it from a nearby carafe.

Simmons pointed to his ears. She pulled the ear buds out and turned the iPod off.

"So kitten, someone slip you some catnip? You seem to be in a good mood today." He could have sworn there was a ghost of a smile before she snarled, showing him her vicious teeth.

Sira pulled out a second plate and dished up some of the eggs and buttered toast, and slid the offering to Simmons.

"What, no Meow Mix sprinkled on top?" He was going to get a rise out her one way or the other.

"Unsophisticated oaf! Those are best served in a bowl with warm cream." God help, her she couldn't keep a straight face.

Simmons laughed at that lopsided, sheepish grin she gave him. She looked like she had been caught stealing cookies and was trying to hide the mischievous gleam in her eyes. He used his fork to gesture to the meal between them.

"You realize that when you turn thirty, eating like this will go directly to your ass and those luscious hips will spread as wide as a barn door."

She actually laughed. "I have already turned thirty, and you'd be amazed how many calories you burn trying to keep up with the giant 'Bots. So, did you spend your weekend writing down all the bad cat jokes you could come up with?"

Simmons just shrugged; he wasn't going to tell her about all of the smart-assed-re-marks he had thought up.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "The first time I hear the words: pussy, pussycat, puss puss, or any variation thereof, I am going to flatten that beaky nose in such a way that the doctors will be picking bone shards out of your tonsils." She smiled coyly and fluttered her eyelashes.

The line had been drawn and there went half of his material. "You know you're pretty good with the scary threats. Do _you _have a list written down somewhere?"

"So why are you here? You don't come around just to be sociable." No segue, no subtlety, just a complete change of subject.

"It's about your little friend Randy Smith. It appears that after his termination from government employment, he has started a new hobby. It's called Earth for Humans dot org. Nice graphics, blog, pictures all in all a well designed website. They like to discuss how the Earth is being overrun by aliens and how the government isn't doing anything to protect the citizens. It's becoming a rather popular place for conspiracy nuts and the generally paranoid to hang out and trade information." He took a bite of his eggs.

"Can't you shut him down for divulging secrets or something?" Her voice had a subtle growl to it. She was getting angry.

"Nope, he hasn't given any specifics. Hell, he hasn't even said he used to work for the CIA. If we shut him down he could holler about his civil rights being violated. Not a noise we want to hear right now. Optimus is looking over the website as we speak."

Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Enjoy your eggs, Reggie." Sira stood and headed out of the room

"Where are you going sweetheart?"

"To kick Optimus in the foot and say 'I told you so'."

It would be an interesting argument to watch, but his sense of self-preservation kept him sitting on the stool and enjoying a free meal. Simmons leaned over and retrieved her iPod, there _had _to be something decent on it.

_**XxxX.**_

She was happy to finally get off the base. Since the possibility of several Decepticons coming to Earth, security had been tight. Not just tight, but excruciatingly restrictive. Her daily jog required at least two Autobots incase of a Seeker attack. She quickly gave up running; it was just too much trouble.

Optimus and Ratchet had sat her down and explained the dangers. She understood and submitted, but without finding any traces of the elusive 'Cons it was frustrating being stuck at the base all of the time. Sam and Mikeala had used college as an excuse, refusing to stop attending to classes until there was a good reason. The look on Bumblebee's face at the end of that showdown could have melted all but the hardest of hearts.

Sira almost wished something would happen … almost. The waiting was driving her insane. Optimus said she should enjoy the calm while it lasted. Her retorted by snidely asking how could she enjoy the calm, when she wasn't allowed to do anything she enjoyed? She immediately apologized for her harsh words. Optimus had sat in silence for a few seconds, and then told her if she found somewhere to go, he would take her.

Sira wasn't going to waste the offer on any trivial little outing. It was almost a full month before she stumbled across the article in the Tranquility Herald. The picture that accompanied the article was what had caught her attention and made her yank the Lifestyle section out of Lennox's hands. Amid the gold jewelry, papyrus and canopic jars was a nondescript carving.

The Heritage Museum was hosting a traveling exhibit of Egyptian artifacts. What Egypt had to do with Tranquility's heritage, Sira wouldn't even hazard a guess, but that didn't change the fact that the stone bust was close and she had to see it.

It was that same stone bust that she had been staring at for the last two hours. She had memorized every line, every chisel mark. Optimus thought he understood what this carving represented, a connection to her people. He was only partially correct.

The few times Sira had sojourned back to the Temple she would spend as much time as possible in the Great Library, reading anything she find on the ones like her. The half-breeds, a handful of beings sired by human males. Sira was the only one born in the last several thousand years, and like her sisters before, she had rejected the Temple to live among mankind. But there was no place for her in man's new world, for the days of gods and goddesses had passed. She was the last vestige of an ancient age. The irony in the fact that she was accepted by and living with highly advanced robots hadn't escaped her.

A gentle cough brought her out of her reverie. A bi-speckled old man was standing beside her. He had watery gray eyes, a wry smile and her complete attention. The air around him buzzed with vitality.

"You appear quite taken with the bust of Bastet." His voice was cultured and held traces of an accent not found on this continent.

Sira looked at the statue and back to the man. "I believe you have been misinformed. That isn't a bust of Bastet. That is Sekhmet. Bastet doesn't wear the sun disk and cobra crown, and as far as I can tell, Bastet never existed."

The man smiled. The gesture deepened the creases in his face. "Ah, you have been educated. Tell me what else you know about the Mistress Dread."

Sira knew a lot about Sekhmet. She had to remember what humans knew about the goddess. "Mistress Dread, Avenger of Wrongs, Before whom Evil Trembles and Lady of Pestilence were all names she was addressed by. Sekhmet was the warrior goddess of Upper Egypt, and one of the sun deities. Her skin was said to shine with the brilliance of the sun and her breath was the hot dry wind of the desert. She could call forth fire and used flaming arrows of slay her foes, hence the name Lady of Fire. Sekhmet was also the Protector of Kings. She stalked the land and slew all those that wanted to rise against the Pharaoh. Her clothes were dyed with the blood of the wicked ... I always wondered why she traveled so far from home."

The old man laced his fingers over a knee. "You are forgetting the part where she was driven insane by her own bloodlust and almost slaughtered all of mankind. Not a very noble trait."

Sira willingly took the bait. "Have you been to a Wal-Mart on Saturday? It's an understandable reaction to humanity in general."

The elderly man chuckled in agreement. He held out a liver spotted hand. "Dr. Marshgood. An expert in antiquities and all things dusty, musty and moldy."

Sira took his hand and found it surprisingly firm. "Sira. Little formal education, but exceedingly well read. I just came here to visit a relative."

Dr. Marshgood gave her a curious look. Sira stood to leave and lump had found a in her throat and threatened to push its way to her eyes. She had stayed in the past too long. It was time to return to the present.

"Take care of her for me," she requested before she headed out of the museum and into the bright sun.

Ducking into the shadows of an alley, Sira wiped her eyes. Damn it, she hadn't had a crying jag in a couple of weeks. She had to pull herself together before she called Optimus. He could detect the slightest tremor in her voice, and would make a fuss about it. Lately, he fussed over her everytime her mood turned to the negative, and she couldn't expain to him that she didn't even like her people that well, even if she did get all weepy thinking about the big fur balls.

_**XxxX.**_

He almost hadn't let her get out of his cab. He was nervous about this trip into Tranquility, and could not figure out why. The thought of letting Sira go to the museum hadn't bothered him, until they neared the building. His spark was … unsettled …making him scan the area again for signs of other Cybertronians. Of course it came back negative.

To make matters worse, he couldn't park anywhere near the museum. The city was trying to revitalize the area and several streets were closed for repairs, and his size made parking along the curb of the narrow streets impractical. In the end he had dropped Sira off as close as he could get and left to find a place to park elsewhere.

Currently, Optimus was sitting at the back of a restaurant parking lot, impatiently counting the minutes. He was further away then he would have liked, but there wasn't a thing he could do about it.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira wiped her eyes. This time she made sure all traces of smudged mascara were gone. Had she been a normal woman, she would have whipped a magical makeup bag out of her purse and fixed the offending runny make up. But, she wasn't anywhere near normal and refused to carry a purse. Today she was even without her backpack and the comforting weight of the sword inside. She had learned the hard way that museums liked to use metal detectors to keep weapons out. Even today, she had to lie and say she had pins in her arm and endure a pat-down to visit the image of Sekhmet.

She pulled her phone out to call Optimus when she heard the sound of a whimper followed by a couple of sniffles. Looking behind her, she saw a small from sitting near a trash can. She turned and slowly walked toward the child.

"Do you know where my Mommy is?"

Sira could see the wet trails that tears had made down the child's face. The girl gave a shuddering breath and a snot bubble formed on the tiny upturned nose. Sira's instincts were screaming but her brain was saying helpless child.

She smiled her kindest smile in hopes for not frightening the little girl. "Hey sweaty, I can help you find your Mommy. Okay?" Her voice was pitched higher and had a cooing quality to it. She stopped about five feet from the child and squatted down. She held her hand out and motioned for the child to come to her.

"Do you know where my Mommy is?"

Sira narrowed her eyes involuntarily and scented the air. Mouth slightly opened and head raised, she sniffed again: dirt, concrete, rotting food, urine, rat feces and nothing else.

This was a child and she had to make sure. Shuffling forward a little, she reached out to stroke the tear stained cheek. Her hand met not soft, wet flesh, but empty air. Without resistance her hand slid right through the illusion.

She didn't pause to look around. Jumping to her feet, she ran through the hologram, trying to put as much distance as possible between her and it, wherever it was. The roar of rage echoed around her as the monstrous footfalls vibrated the ground. She didn't know where or how he hid his presence, but that was of little importance now. The mech was closing the distance between them and she was unarmed.

She reached the end of the alley and vaulted a construction barrier. Deaf to the shouts of weekend shoppers, she could hear the familiar sounds of transformation occurring and tires squealing for purchase.

Sira ran across the street and down a second alley. She wanted to lose her pursuer, but not at the expense of innocent pedestrians. A crash, she looked behind her to see a police car blow through the orange and white barrier horse. She reached the end of the alley and turned right and then left down a different street.

She heard the familiar _woop-woop _of a patrol car. The Decepticon had gone down a street parallel to her and was going to cut her off. Sira decided to change the game and climbed a fence. Jumping over to the other side, she found she was in some sort of abandoned industrial complex. Stoping only to pull her phone out of her pocket. She needed to call in Optimus, but never got the chance. The patrol car tore through the fence like it wasn't there, and in mid air it unfolded. Sira dove out of the way as the black mech took a swipe at her. He landed on his side and slid to a halt.

Sira took the opening and ran. The Decepticon was larger and more powerful, but she was small and nimble. She used this to her full advantage, dodging and dropping to the ground and shooting off in a different direction. Leaving the 'Con heading in the wrong direction for a few steps. She led him helter-skelter around the facility, hoping her pursuer would get bored and leave. But, this was unlikely to happen; he seemed intent on catching her.

Her heart was pounding, and every breath made her lungs feel like they were on fire. She couldn't keep this up . The pain in her side was brutal and she was starting to get tunnel vision. He was relentless and wouldn't give her any chance of escape or a moment in which to hide. She knew what he was doing; he was running her into the ground. The thought chilled her. Had he wanted to kill her, he would just shoot her, but he wanted her alive. Horrifying images of what could happen to her in the hands of the Decepticons made a grisly slide show in her mind, spuring her into action. She had two choices. Run until he caught her or stand and fight, and only one had any appeal.

She reached deep with and willed a nasty little surprise into existence. She stopped and spun around facing the monster. He was almost on top of her. She blindly lashed out as he swung in his own attack.

_**XxxX.**_

Barricade was checking the damage that Prime's pet had inflicted upon him. His armor was scourched and melted in several places, but it protected him sufficiantly. He didn't waste time thinking about the amount of damage she could have caused had she breached the tough exo-skeleton. The shock trooper had been more surprised than anything else when the organic female turned and attacked, but it was a futile gesture at best. Unarmed and nearing exhaustion, her sting wasn't near as bad as the frist time she stood against him.

He looked over to where he left the female. She hadn't moved, but she was still alive. The Decepticon chuckled. He was truly looking forward to the task at hand. He flipped her onto her back and waited. A couple of nudges and her eyelids fluttered. Good, it would be better if she regained consciousness.

He picked up her blue communication device and scrolled through the names. Once he opened the comm line he had less then a breem to finish and clear the area; having no intentions of being around when the Autobots arrived. Even if it it would be fun to watch.

The pet was beginning to stir. The shock trooper pinned her with one hand, and with his free hand he pushed the send button. Setting the phone down he grabbed a piece of rebar that was lying about. Barricade waited while the female strated to listlessly struggled under his hand.

A deep commanding voice could be heard coming from the blue cell phone.

Barricade struck with brutal efficacy. The human femme's screams filled the dirty air and the audio processors of Optimus Prime.

_**XxxX.**_

_**To Be Continued **_

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: **Author peeks out from the bunker she is now hidding in.

To **Tiamat1972 **- Have you noticed the Autobot base has been grafittied? Good thing Jazz isn't around. I have a feeling he and the twins would get into tag art. Thank you, my son is adorable and I am biased. Sorry about Dora, there is only so much of Boots I can stand. To **Ladyofthebookworms **- You would also think they would clear the work surface of projects. I wonder how many squishies the 'Bots went through before they figured out how to keep them alive? To **Yami-Yugi3** - Patiece is a virtue. To **fennecfox03** - Thank you. Not awkward enough that she wasn't curious. To **Fea Child19** - I'm not so sure it would be used to heal as much as diagnose. Doctors of all species get to mess with people's intimate bits and pieces. Am I right ladies?


	23. Desperation

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the transformers. I can't even afford to buy stock in Hasbro.

**Rating: **T or R - Language, violence, sexual situation, character death.

Special thanks to my betas **Okami-myrrhibis **and **Lady Sunflower**. Everyone wave and blow them kisses.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Desperation**_

_Someone wanted his attention, and by Primus, they had it. _

There wasn't a force great enough to stop Optimus Prime. That raw scream echoed in his processor. He needed to reach her, to protect her, to keep her safe. The sounds of pain and terror her voice held ignited his righteous anger. Few had seen him in such a wrathful state, but there were _very _good reasons why Decepticons feared to face him in battle.

The communications line had been felt open. The damnable silence that followed Sira's screams and pleads almost made him give up hope. But the line was still open and he used it like a homing beacon

He pushed himself as fast as he dared; braking only for the occasional unwitting human. Frustration made him shove parked cars out of his way and ignore all traffic laws. He finally took to the narrow alleys, where his only obstacles were trash cans and dumpsters. Things easily crushed under his tires. Sparks flew as he raked his side mirrors along building surfaces, leaving a trail of violent gouges in the facades and mortar; a testament to his desperation.

His thoughts started to stray into dangerous territory. What had been done to her? What had happened to make her scream like that? He was no stranger to the sounds of torture. In the latter days of the war he had lead a mission to attack a Decepticon base. The prisoners held there had been brutalized beyond their capacity to cope. Survivors were left with broken minds and bodies, casualties of war not found on any roster. He knew her organic body wouldn't take much abuse, and pushed himself a little faster. Praying that he could get to her in time.

Blowing through a hole in the fence; he entered into the desolate complex. A quick scan for other life forms came back negative for anything significant. Before he finished his transformation he was heading to her.

A keening moan escaped his vocal processor before he could stop it. They had used his Sira as the focal point for a horrific tableau. She was prostrate on the bare earth. A length of metal pierced her lithe body and pinned her to the ground. Cuts and welts along her body told of the punishment she endured before the final blow had been delivered. Familiar glyphs were carved into the dirt on either side of the prone form … "failure" and "weakness". He had been unable to protect her, and the Decepticons made sure he was aware of this.

Dropping to his knees he scanned the too still body. Dear Primus, she was alive. Her vital signs were weak. The damage inflicted to the tiny body was extensive. Major organs were shutting off to conserve blood to the brain and heart. He wasn't sure she was strong enough, but she had to hold on a little longer.

Opening a comm. link to his medic, he sent the data and waited. After several long seconds Ratchet replied. "Optimus …. I'm …"

Prime terminated the connection. He didn't want to hear all that the CMO had to say, the tone alone confirmed his fear. There was nothing they could do. Sira was dying.

Gently, he ran his fingers down her body, tracing the soft contours he had become used to. She was cold. The heat he enjoyed against his armor was gone. Her eyelids fluttered open at his touch; she was aware of his presence. He could see her struggling to focus, and look at him. The once brilliant orbs were dull, their inner light almost extinguished. He swallowed his pain and rage. The Decepticons would pay for doing this, but not today.

"I'm sorry…" Words escaped him and he couldn't continue. The torrent of emotions within threatened to cloud his thoughts. He had to stay in control, if only for her. He shuttered his optics and steadied himself, ignoring the empty ache in his spark. He had to be the Prime. His personal torment was not important, it never was.

Prime felt something deep inside stir and awaken. It was always there, laying dormant in his chest. A constant reminder of who and what he was; it sat him apart from all others. He could feel it slipping into his consciousness, strengthening his resolve and feeding him knowledge. He welcomed its influence.

Leaning close to his friend he asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Always," was her faint reply.

_Oh, Primus. Please let this work._

"Sira, come to me. Answer only to my voice and come to me," he pleaded, hoping that she understood.

A scan showed he didn't have much time. Cycling his vents deeply, he reached down and grabbed the piece of rebar. With one clean, deft movement he pulled the offensive length of metal from her and threw it aside. The small, agonizing moans she made, almost shattered his spark.

His chest armor slid back revealing his spark chamber; leaving him open and vulnerable. One well placed shot from a hidden enemy could destroy him, but it was a risk he was more than willing to take. Gingerly, he lifted her up. Bringing Sira as close as he could to his exposed spark and the relic that surrounded it, he called repeatedly to her.

Prime turned inward, and all time seemed to stop. He was vaguely aware that the tiny heart in his hands had fluttered and stilled. But he continued to call and reach for her.

This was how he stayed until a gentle touch began to bring him out of the Matrix.

_**XxxX.**_

She curled in on herself. She didn't like where she was, for the Presence frightened her. She wanted to get way from the Presence, but it was above, below and all around. There was no escaping, this was its domain.

The Presence tried to touch her, but she curled tighter and growled a warning. It backed off. She knew the Presence wasn't afraid of her. It was ancient. Beyond ancient; timeless. The Presence was old when the universe was born. She should be insignificant to the Presence, but it had taken an interest in her.

She tried to leave but the Presence wouldn't let her. It kept her in this place. She didn't belong with the Presence.

It tried to speak to her. The Presence's voice was made from a multitude. This scared her she didn't want to be part of the multitude.

_How did you get here? _

She tried to remember, but it was … confusing. The pain had been too much and the one she trusted called her here to keep her safe.

_Who was this trusted one? _

She couldn't remember, but she wanted him. He would hold and protect her. He had before.

Alone and scared she tried to curl tighter. The Presence crept a little closer.

_**XxxX.**_

Bumblebee had never seen his leader like this and it shook the young mech to the core. Optimus Prime had always been the epitome of strength, dignity and courage. Exhibiting only a stoic grace while the world around him crumbled into ruin. But the enemy had dealt a merciless blow and the mighty warrior had been brought to his knees. Among the shadows of a defunct human facility, the scout realized the toll this endless war was taking on the older mech.

He sent a quick text to Sam. He wanted the boy and Mikeala to stay where they were; knowing that they would be fairly safe in the large building. This was what all of the Autobots feared would happen; the Decepticons would target and attack their vulnerable friends. To use the fragile beings to intimidate and demoralize. The small mech was torn between gathering up his humans and his duty to his Prime.

Stepping carefully, not wanting to disturb the dark liquid soaking into the ground, the young "Bot went to his leader. He ignored the delicate body cradled within the massive hands; there was nothing he could do for her now. His concern was for Prime. The large mech was unresponsive his optics dim and unfocused. He scanned and scanned again. Nothing was wrong, no injuries, no malfunctions. The commander was still online and functioning within acceptable parameters, he just wasn't there. He hailed Ratchet with the information and told the medic to hurry.

The medic responded with his ETA and ordered Bumblebee to, "Guard Prime. That's all. Do not try to pull him from the trance. Do not touch the body. Don't do anything. Just keep him safe."

Not knowing what else to do Bumblebee wrapped an arm around the large mech's neck and pulled him close. The large head rested on his shoulder. It had been vorns since they had held each other. Bee could still remember curling up in those massive arms and hiding his face, while Optimus petted and cooed soothingly to him. Keeping the demons of war away long enough so a young 'Bot could relax enough to fall into recharge. Now it was the young 'Bot's turn to hold and protect his friend and leader.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus lay on the cold tiles, they helped lower his temperature. His systems were stressed, and he was disoriented from delving so quickly into the Matrix. Normally, it took time to prepare his mind for the communion with the relic, but time was a luxury he didn't always have.

He could only recall vague images of what happened from the time the Matrix filled his consciousness until about one breem ago; when he collapsed on the floor. Fortunately, Ratchet had experience caring for him, and the condition the Matrix often left him in. The fact that the medic had been ignoring him was a good sign; it meant that someone needed medical attention more than he.

From his vantage point on the floor of the med bay, Optimus could watch Ratchet and Wheeljack working feverishly to stabilize the protoform on the table. Worry and guilt seeped into the Prime's thoughts. What had he done to her? How much pain had he forced her to endure during the last moments of that life? He had lost so many over the millennia; he couldn't stand to lose any more. He hoped she could forgive him. He hoped she would understand his selfishness.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: **I totally forgot to credit the song lyrics in the last chappy. They are from "A Horse With No Name" by America. It's a classic

To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Dang it! It's your fault I now have another set of books to read. I found "The Nine Lives of Chloe King", and I'm about half way through the first book. Glad hubby got me that Amazon Prime for my B-day. Thanks they are interesting. To **hermonine** - Yes evil cliffy. To **fennecfox03** - Can I watch you whack Barricade until candy falls out his aft? Seriously, I would really like to see that. Thanks. Oh, I'm gonna _so_ use that line on the neighbors. To **Fae** **Child19 **- Happy you enjoyed. I always wondered where the old mythos came from. To **Punk** **Autobo**t - Thank you. I'm really not into Egyptian stuff, but it just fit. Optimus isn't the type for revenge, but some of his mechs sure are.

**You all know you love a good cliffhanger. **(Author ducks the flying projectiles thrown after that smart ass remark)


	24. Changes

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the Transformers. My husband wouldn't let me even if I could. The poor man suffers enough having a total geek for a wife

**Ratings: **T or R - Language,

A big round of applause for my Betas: **Lady Sunflower **and **okami-myrrhibis**. They are stuck trying to figure out I wrote and how to change it into something legible.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Changes **_

He fraggin hurt. His optics felt like someone had poured crushed glass in them, and every joint and gear ached. He was sorely tempted to slip back into recharge, but he couldn't. He needed to check on someone first. With stiff movements, he left his quarters and headed towards medical.

The med bay was dimly lit, and on the other side of the room, the smaller protoform lay in the shadows. Numerous tubes and wires snaked out of her chest and up to various monitors and machines. Optimus just stared. Guilt, worry, fear and a dozen other emotions hit him like a wave. Could she survive the transition at all? Would she be the same, or would she be irreparably scarred? Would she hate him? Questions and second guesses spun through his processor, spiraling him downward.

An irritated "Humph," brought Prime out of his dark thoughts. Ratchet was standing nearby with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet firmly planted. The narrowed optics would make a lesser mech duck for cover, but the Autobot commander drew himself up to his full height and calmly met the medic's challenge. Optimus was not going to be cowed; not today.

The green 'Bot didn't change his stance or glare when he motioned for Optimus to sit on the vacant examining table. Optimus sat.

"How is she?"

Ratchet growled. "We had a Pit of a time trying to keep her alive. But she is stable now. Her pump is functioning on its own, and the modified spark chamber is performing better than hoped." The medic began assessing Prime's own status.

"Well, amazingly, your systems are well within normal parameters. Mild fatigue is all I can find that is wrong with you ... physically."

Ignoring the dig, Optimus moved to slip off of the table only to have Ratchet forcibly shove him back down. Anger radiated from the medic. His blue optics had lost all of their normal gentleness. "What in the name of Primus were you thinking? Don't answer that! Don't say a slagging thing until I am through! We agreed not to attempt a transfer unless it was in a controlled environment! The middle of a human rust farm is not a controlled environment! Any place recently evacuated by a Pit-spawned Decepticon is not a controlled environment! As far as I know, this has never been attempted with an organic, and we had no way of knowing how either of you would react! You could have burned your circuits out! Or worse! Did that thought even make it into your processor? The next time you decide to pull such an asinine, idiotic, selfish, glitch-headed stunt think about the rest of us, and where we would be without our Prime! With you gone, there would be truly nothing left of Cybertron! Sometimes I think we have been gone from home so long that you forget you are supposed to be Optimus Prime, and not just Orion Pax!"

He didn't try to argue, or justify his actions. He met his ancient friend optic to optic, and interrupted the medic's tirade. "I will never forget that I am Prime. I will never forget my duty to _all _ofthose under me. You can be mad at me all you want, for I have never expected you to agree with or understand all of my actions, but you do not accuse me of ignoring my responsibilities." The words were said with an icy calmness.

Ratchet's shoulders dropped and his ire dissipated. An argument he had expected, but not the coldness. The rare coldness in that voice meant that the CMO had over-stepped his bounds, and was being put back in his place. It was also a warning not to push the larger mech any further.

The medic watched as Prime slipped a worried glance towards the still figure lying on the other table, and suddenly it all made sense. Thinking back over the past several and months the situation became very clear to Ratchet, and he silently scolded himself for not noticing the obvious. Had he realized this earlier, he would have chosen a different tactic while yelling at Optimus.

"Had there been another option available I would have chosen it," the Autobot commander quietly stated.

"I know. None of us wanted to go down this path, but it is unavoidable if we wish to save our friends. … Would you like to see her?" Ratchet asked. The CMO gave the other mech a little nudge to get him moving.

Optimus stood beside the femme and took his time observing her. His team had done an extraordinary job constructing the protoform. If he had to choose one word to describe her it would have to be "delicate", but looks could be deceiving. She was small; slightly shorter than Bumblebee, and didn't have near the mass. The over all shape seemed fluid and graceful; lacking the sharp angles of a typical Cybertronian. But it was her coloration that set her apart. She wasn't the all over metallic grays of most protoforms, but instead was a brilliant copper color. He could also detect a subtle pattern etched onto the metal's surface. It was invisible unless the light reflected off of it at just the right angle. Intricate swirls' and loops decorated her chest, arms and hips. Tracing his finger along her arm; he followed the design. It reminded him of vines or briars, something botanical in nature. And after she assumed a planetary mode the pattern would be hidden from most, but the copper would peek teasingly through the seams in her armor. He was impressed.

"You can blame Sunstreaker for that. Said it was called filigree. He argued about how even thought the protoforms are over all Cybertronian in design, they should have markings that set them apart. Something to mark them as Terrestrial."

The Autobot leader raised a brow arch. "Sunny said that?"

Ratchet shrugged. "No. I am paraphrasing …a lot … but that was the jest of his argument, and he carried on about it so much, we let him do it. Each form has a different pattern. But don't be too impressed; most of his contribution consisted of walking in, criticizing and leaving. Though, he did make some valid points form time to time. I have now concluded that the Twins are wasting two very sharp processors on criminal misconduct, video games and general laziness."

Optimus couldn't help but smile a little. "I have thought that for vorns." More seriously he added, "Does she have a chance or are we wasting time and resources?"

"It is too early to tell. Every hour she is a little stronger … Honestly, I just don't know. Give this a couple of days before we start discussing alternatives. Optimus, I promise Wheeljack and I will do everything in our power to make this work."

For a fleeting moment, powerful emotions crossed over the Prime's optics, before they were buried. The medic's words meant everything to the stoic Autobot commander.

_**XxxX.**_

Prime sat in his office. He was trying to decide if he had done the right thing; chosen the right course, said the right words. He was stepping into the vast expanse of grey between the white and black of right and wrong.

Notifying Secretary Keller of Sira's death didn't bother Prime … much. According to human laws, death was declared when the heart stopped functioning, but what did concern him was that she really wasn't dead. Her consciousness had been moved to a new body. While this was a perfectly acceptable practice among Cybertronians; it was unfathomable to most humans, who were still arguing over the existence of their souls. _That _was an argument he did not want to become involved in.

He was not going to lie to the government, but he did not want them to know about the transference. Images of bloated, greedy, power hungry politicians wanting new bodies so they could run for another term kept nipping at his processor like a pack of hunting dogs.

In the end, he didn't mention the appearance of a femme among their ranks. He wasn't under any obligation to report a new 'Bot the _second_ it arrived, and excuses could be made since she was under medical care. If she survived, he hoped the humans would just assume Sira was another Cybertronian refugee and treat her as such. _Primus, he was relying on hopes and wishes_.

These were the shades of grey he despised walking through, for that way was miry and threatened to trap him, forcing him to compromise his ideals. He stepped carefully.

Turning his attention to other issues, he opened a comm. channel and began sending orders to his soldiers. He needed everyone to help and secure the safety of their other human allies.

_**XxxX.**_

"Thank you, sir. I understand."

Simmons snapped the phone shut and stood looking out of his apartment window. His world had just become a lot less interesting. Turning to the galley kitchen, he rummaged around until he found a reasonably clean tumbler and the bottle of thirty year old Scotch he had stashed.

Taking both he headed to his favorite recliner; it was the only thing that had survived all three divorces. After a glass of the amber liquid, he thought about calling Optimus and offering his condolences, but he figured everyone would take it the wrong way. He doubted sending flowers would be appropriate, and he wasn't going to waste time sending a bouquet of snapdragons if no one would get the joke.

Pouring himself another glass he though about the bitchy, little red head. She actually made dropping in on the Autobots fun. Sira was someone he could trade insults with; a verbal sparring partner. And she actually tolerated his company. He was glad that he had gotten to know her as something other than an oddity to be studied. Now she was gone. Another casualty of the Decepticons. He considered going to the Autobot base, but he knew that Prime would have it locked down tight. Circling the wagons so to speak.

A questioning mew came from somewhere near his feet, and a half grown grey kitten jumped into Simmons' lap. He scratched the feline on top of her head; listening to her purr graciously.

"What's up cat?"

His new house-mate didn't answer; she curled up in his lap and stared at him with big green eyes. They stayed like this for the rest of the evening.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus stared at the two humans on his desk and they glared back. He was beginning to understand why humans were the dominant life form on this planet. They simply refused to accept the phrase "No, you cannot …." and forged ahead anyways. That was also the _very _same reason he thought that the species should have become extinct long ago.

"It will be difficult, if almost impossible to insure your safety if you remain at home. I do not have the staff to assign both of you guardians."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and mimicked the Autobot's pose. "How am I supposed to finish the semester, much less the rest of college if I'm here all the time? Come on, I've got 'Bee at my back. It isn't like he can't handle himself."

Prime glanced at the yellow mech, who shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. Bumblebee was a loyal soldier, but he was torn between his humans and his Prime. Prime was trying to rectify this.

"Sam, the Decepticons are testing our reaction. This has been a common occurrence through-out the war. Whenever we would establish a new stronghold, they would attack and kill a handful of mechs, usually neutrals that refused to fight. They did this to demoralize our warriors and gauge our strength and defenses. Later, an all-out assault would follow. This is just the beginning. More assaults are sure to follow, and I cannot have my warriors running around the country side. Our numbers are small, and one more 'Bot could make all the difference in a battle."

"What about our parents? What if the Decepticons decide …?"

"I do not think this is a likely scenario. The concept of parental attachment is unknown on Cybertron, and I doubt the Decepticons would take time to learn about the subtleties of human relationships. Once they discover neither of you can be found at your homes, they will look elsewhere."

"Are you sure?" Mikeala asked in a voice full of concern.

"I am not one hundred percent sure, but I have been dealing with the Decepticons for a very long time. And in some ways they are predictable."

The young humans traded looks and Optimus knew he had been able to persuade them to move into the base.

"We still want to attend classes if at all possible," Sam stated. Prime had also been prepared for this. He was aware of a human being's need to associate with others of their kind. He slowly nodded his head in acceptance.

"I understand your desire to finish your education. You two have similar class schedules, so Bumblebee will be able to guard you both. But once class is over you are to return to the base. If you receive orders you are to follow them … immediately. If the situation arises where you cannot attend school anymore, then you will enroll in online classes. Mikeala, you will have to quite your job. I am aware that this sounds harsh and unfair, but I refuse to have anyone else hurt."

Sam shrugged. "I always thought it would be kind of cool to live with you guys. I guess this is okay."

Optimus graced them with a small smile. His scout seemed visibly relieved also.

"It is settled then. When Ironhide and the Twins return, they will accompany you and 'Bee to your homes so you can gather whatever you require."

"Yeah, where is everyone? This place seems empty."

"Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have gone with Ironhide and Captain Lennox. They are assisting in taking Sarah, Annabelle and Adelaide to the airport. Ironhide and Will did not want the females to remain here, so they are going to Akron to stay with Sarah's sister. They should be safer there."

The seriousness of the situation was weighing on the young humans. Prime could almost see the fear for the young Lennox children cross Sam's and Mikeala's minds. He could not agree more. No one wanted to see the human sparklings caught in the sights of a Decepticon's blaster.

Before the next logical question could be asked, Prime went ahead and answered it. "I have also had all the military personal leave the base."

Sam looked shocked. "Why did you send them away? They were, like extra fire power. They could help defend against the 'Cons."

"No Sam, they couldn't. When this gets ugly, and it will, they will need to be part of the reinforcements the military will send. We need for the military to be ready to assist at a moments notice, and that is what Lennox's team is doing. They are training soldiers and civilians, not only for battle, but to attend to the number of humans that will be injured. It is called Disaster Preparedness I believe. You were at Mission City, and you both saw the damage caused there. That was a brief skirmish compared to the typical prolonged battles we have engaged in."

"What can we do to help?" Sam asked the question, but both faces showed eagerness and determination.

The question was sincere, and Prime didn't know who was prouder at that moment, him or Bumblebee. He looked fondly at the two humans and he knew he had made the correct decision to ignore all of the Cybertronian laws about non-involvement with organics.

"Right now, just remain safe. After the battle comes, we will need people, humans, to speak on our behalf. Someone will need to be the voice of reason against all those that will hate us. This is how you can help, if you are willing."

Two small heads nodded in a solemn pledge. They had come to his office offering their condolences and now they were offering him their loyalty. Yes, he had made the right decision.

Optimus chuckled, "Now go away. I have work to do." Quietly he added. "Bumblebee, I need to speak with you, alone."

The humans left the office and 'Bee waved them down the hall, assuring them he would be along shortly.

"Sir?"

"You have not told them about the transference." It was a statement, not an accusation.

"No, sir. I was unsure if you wanted me to."

Prime nodded slowly. "They are closest to us, and are trusted. I do not intend to keep any secrets from them. You may proceed at your discretion. If you would like I could inform them."

"Thank you for the offer, but they are my friends. I should be the one to tell them, but I will send them to you when the questioning starts."

Optimus gave a long suffering sigh, "Very well."

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: **To **Turtle Dreamer **- Welcome to the ride. Glad you like it so far. Yes, I have to poke fun at the home team. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Haha. See they weren't making toys. To **Fennecfox03** - Sorry, didn't mean to frustrate you. And yes it said "protoform". **Fae Child 19 **- All of the 'Bots have lost a lot in the war. "War is Hell". To **Raine Tsuki-san **- I'm happy you like the stiory. Please, don't pitchfork 'Cade. I need him for later. To **Soului** - Yes, cliffhanger. Thank you and keep reading. Things should start looking up in a couple of chapters. To **Srerenity8118** - Thank you for the review, you are forgiven. I am evil, but in a fun way. Here is your update.


	25. Watching and Waiting

**Disclaimer**: I'll trade you Prime for two dead parakeets and a Billy goat. No! Damn it, Hasbro you're hard to bargain with. Well, since that failed, I still don't own the Transformers.

**Ratings: **T or R. Violence, Language, Sexual situation, Character death

A special thank you goes to my wonderful betas **okami-myrrhibis **and **Lady Sunflower**. They have the arduous task of trying to fix my mistakes. Any and all mistakes remain mine. If you find one, let me know and I will fix it.

Please read and review (I love reviews, they make me write more)

_**XxxX.**_

_**Watching and Waiting **_

The comm line closed and all he could hear was a quiet echo. No hum, no insect like buzz, no dial tone, no annoying static; just a blessed quiet. He shuttered his optics and relished the calm and silence. It wouldn't last long, it couldn't. But while it was available, he would indulge in a little bit of nothingness. The nothing barely lasted two seconds before his processor started turning, telling him it was time to get to work.

He could not postpone the inevitable any longer. He had argued and fought and ultimately lost. The laws were not on his side. He was not the "next of kin" or the spouse. He even tried as executor of the estate. Except without a will, in the eyes of the law, he had no say in the matter. He had even contacted the lawyer, and soon discovered a lawsuit would be long and arduous with little chance of success. He had to choose his fights carefully, and he decided this was not worth an all-out confrontation with the government. But he wasn't going to give up either. The ability to just give up and walk away was not in his programming.

General McKaffee was coming to take possession of Sira's body. The man had said they would bury her in a "decent and respectful" manner. _Yeah, and he was a petro-rabbit on high grade_. The scientists would bury the body, but not until they had extracted every useful tidbit from it. The image of specimen jars and cryogenically frozen tubes filtered in his processor, and it frustrated him.

He did not have any attachment to the small organic form, for it was just an empty shell. The part of Sira that mattered was alive and being tended to in the med bay. And he really could not care less what the humans did with their dead; it was none of his concern. He just did not want them to have her. He was certain that Sira wouldn't want the military to have the body, and he felt it was his duty to speak on her behalf until she was able to do so for herself. She did not belong to the humans. She was not one of them, and they had no right to anything about her. With his path decided, Prime walked out of his office, and headed to the furthest end of the base.

Standing before a seeming blank wall Optimus emitted the complex set of frequencies necessary to release the lock. The massive door slid open, and super chilled air seeped into the hall. Prime stepped into the vault, and adjusted his optics to compensate for the low light. To his right was the All Spark shard, sitting in a protective case. To his left, a pile of papers he had decided to keep: citizenship documents, copies of various treaties he made with the government, a small bundle of parchment paper only one among them could read and other accumulated items. In the middle of the room were three large tables. Two of the tables held lifeless protoforms awaiting the inevitable day they will be called into use. On the third rested the remains of a fallen soldier and good friend.

"Hello Jazz. I hope you did not mind watching this?"

Prime ran a comforting hand along the cold, silver armor of his still companion. It had been a while since any of them had visited, and Prime felt a ping of guilt. Coming here was difficult for the Autobots. It reminded them of how much more they could still lose, but it could also reminded them of what they still had left. Either way it was hard on all of them to see the sparkless body that had once held so much life.

Tucked next to the saboteur's hand was a small from that had been carefully wrapped in a white shroud. He did not like the frozen stiffness of the corpse, it felt unnatural … unreal. The quicker he finished this task the better. Patting his lieutenant's chest, Optimus promised to visit when things settled down a little. He knew Jazz would understand; the living always have a higher priority than the dead.

_**XxxX.**_

Since the transference there was always someone in the med bay to watch over the femme. Normally it was Ratchet, but occasionally the stalwart medic had to refuel and recharge. Even if he didn't want to and had been physically dragged out by Ironhide. On several occasions Prime had come in and temporarily relieved everyone of their duties and then stayed with Sira. For two weeks they had traded off sitting here. Watching. Waiting. Once again, it was his shift to sit with the new femme.

_The new femme_. That was the only way he could think of her. It mattered little to him what she had been before; when she came online she would be a femme. Maybe the only femme in existence. No one had seen, or even heard of rumors about one since…

Wheeljack pulled himself out of dark memories when a shadow fell over him. Prime's massive form had blocked the light. The Autobot commander had already come by twice that day to check up on her progress. The engineer shrugged. What could he say? Nothing had changed. Her body was functioning on its own. She responded to touch and pain, but she had yet to reach full consciousness. It was a little troublesome, but everyday brought hopeful improvements.

He saw the frosted bundle in Prime's hand, and glanced at his leader. The expression on the larger 'Bot's face unnerved 'Jack. He hadn't spent several millenniums of daily interaction with the Prime like the others had, and could not read the stoic Autobot as well. But he was sure this was the way the commander's facial plates arranged themselves before a battle; producing that look of grim determination to carry through until the end.

"The accelerant is on the other table. Use some caution, sir, it will burn hot and fast," Wheeljack warned his leader. He didn't want to be the one responsible for landing Prime in the med bay.

Optimus nodded silently. He gathered the sealed container and continued on with his task. Time was running out. General McKaffee and his men would be here within two cycles.

_**XxxX.**_

The chemical mix worked faster than he had expected. Rubbing his scorched fingers Optimus chided himself for forgetting who he had asked to create the flammable compound. When Wheeljack casually mentioned the use of caution, the translation was always "use _extreme _caution."

He didn't watch the flames devour the pyre. He was only staying to make sure the fire didn't spread. The spring rains had ended, and the earth had soaked up all available moisture; leaving the arid land dry once again.

Within a few breems the task was finished. Everything had been reduced to smoldering ash.

He did not feel smug or self-satisfied with his actions. He did not gloat. He would not enjoy the expression the General would have. This was simply the most logical way to solve a problem.

When McKaffee arrived he would direct the General and his men here, and tell them they can have whatever was left of the body.

_**XxxX. **_

It had been another two days. Two days of irate communications. Two days of The Secretary of Defense trying to mediate between the Autobots and an insulted General. Optimus held his ground and denied trying to start a "pissing contest". There were softly worded threats and insinuations. But in the end there was nothing anyone could do about his course of action.

Keller stated that "Optimus had to have the biggest set of balls on the planet, and wished other people were so well endowed. Maybe then things would get done."

For another two days they watched and waited.

_**XxxX.**_

In the semi-darkness of the med bay a set of optics flickered several times before they glowed steadily. Raising a hand to rub her head in an attempt to chase away the persistent feelings of wrongness, she froze. Slowly turning the metal appendage that responded to her will, the femme carefully viewed it from all sides. She raised her other hand and slowly wiggled the fingers on the foreign object. Had anyone been able to see her face, they would have witnessed a slow transformation from the deep frown of confusion to the wide optic stare of total panic.

The engineer had been running and re-running a simulation on the computer. The data points and variables were so engrossing that he almost didn't notice the movement across the room. Glancing up he saw the protoform jerk and roll off the table.

"Frag! Oh, frag! She's online! Ratchet! Get to med bay now!" Wheeljack yelled into his comm link as he bolted to the femme.

The dull clank of metal slamming into the unforgiving floor sounded loudly through out the room. She had landed hard. The impact left her rattled, in pain and more disoriented than before. Her instincts screamed for her to get up, but her body wouldn't respond. Something was horribly, horribly wrong, and all she could do was lie on her stomach and whimper.

Wheeljack winced when Sira hit the floor. He hadn't been fast enough and his penance was to listen to her painful moans. _Where the slag was Ratchet? _

He squatted down and placed a comforting hand on her back. The soft touch sent the femme into a blind panic as she flailed and scrambled to get away from him. She slipped and scuttled her way into a corner. The engineer let her go; afraid restraining her would only cause more damage. Wheeljack positioned himself between her and the door not knowing what else to do.

_**XxxX **_

He had heard the engineer's summons. The entire base had heard the summons since Wheeljack had used the general communications frequency, and not a private channel. Prime stepped into the med bay to find Wheeljack guarding the door and Ratchet kneeling near the far corner of the room. A small copper colored protoform was wedged into a corner and looking at the medic like he was the most vile creature in the known universe. Meanwhile the most-vile-creature-in-the-known-universe was softly speaking to the femme; trying to coax her to him.

His spark pulsed with relief and excitement. He tried to temper this with caution, but it was hard to deny the fact that he was thrilled to see her up and functioning; even if she was giving the other two 'Bots some degree of difficulty.

Optimus knelt beside the CMO and raised an optic ridge in a silent question. The chartreuse Autobot shifted his weight; sitting on his aft and crossing his legs in front of him.

"Unless you have a special trick for dealing with a scared femme, I believe we may be here a while," Ratchet stated softly.

Prime watched the femme in question with a keen interest. He saw the way that delicate frame shook and twitched every time she moved. He saw her optics were a little too bright and flicked from mech to mech nervously. Smiling softly, he reached for her and clicked soothingly. Sira raised both hands in a palms out gesture, and looked away. He understood; she wanted her space. Optimus pulled his arm back and rested it on his knee. He could wait.

"Sira?" he asked as softly as he could.

She turned her green optics to him, and shivered slightly.

_Oh, Primus. They made her optics green. _"Sira, do you know where you are?"

Looking around the room she nodded a slow affirmative.

"Do you remember who I am?" Optimus asked.

Sira nodded and her optics narrowed to vicious slits. "I … trusted you. You … did … this."

Prime jerked like he had been struck. The accusatory tone in which her words were said pierced his spark like a lance. He quickly shoved away the invisible wounds she had created_. _His distress must have shown for a firm hand gripped his shoulder in silent support.

"Sira, do you remember what happened before you woke up here?" the medic asked calmly. Taking the burden from his friend.

The femme shook her head, "No".

"That's fine. Do you remember going to a museum?" Ratchet tried again

A furrow formed on her face plates as she concentrated on remembering. Finally, she shook her head again.

"You cannot recall, and that is acceptable. Do you remember being attacked by a Decepticon?"

The sleek copper head snapped up. Thoughts were furiously passing through her processor. Confusion showed on her face. She tried to inch further away from them, but the walls blocked her escape.

Ratchet sighed. This wasn't going at all the way they had hoped. Images of her sitting on the examining table and chatting amiably with them burst like a rotten fuel line.

"Yes, Optimus … and I did this to you. We were trying to save your life. The Decepticon meant for you to die. He wanted to make an example out of you. He wanted to use you to hurt Prime. What he did not count on was Optimus reaching you before you expired, and initiating what we call transference. This is when a consciousness is moved from one body to another. Normally, this is done in a laboratory." The medic sent a pointed look to the Autobot leader. "But the Prime can also perform transference with the assistance of the Matrix."

"You were dying, I had little choice." Optimus said solemnly. He warily looked her in the optics, afraid of what he might find in their green glow. The haunted expression was not what he had been expecting. He wondered if hate and rage would have been preferable.

Sira tried to say something, but quickly gave up when her voice processor wouldn't co-operate. She was feeling overwhelmed and trapped. Her conflicting emotions were threatening to swallow her. Anger, fear, shock, and betrayal mixed with gratitude, curiosity and awe wove into a net that was threatening to strangle her. She wanted time to think and sort through what she had just learned. Time to figure out how she felt. Time to just make sense of it all. She wanted to get away from the mechs. She especially wanted to get away from the one that had betrayed her

Using the wall as support, she slowly rose to her feet. The two mechs nearby quickly jumped up, obviously ready to assist in anyway.

"Just … back!" she snapped at the larger mechs. Right now she didn't want their help. She didn't want them touching her.

She carefully made her way to the door, only to have it blocked by Wheeljack. She laid a hand on the engineer's white armor to steady herself, and felt him shift his weight. Ready to catch her if she lost her balance, but not allowing her to leave.

"Let her go," Optimus instructed.

The indecision was evident in the subordinate mech's optics. Clearly he did not agree with Prime's order, but he wasn't sure he wanted to challenge the Autobot commander. Finally, he stepped out of her way, but remained close enough to grab the femme if necessary.

Sira slipped from the room and headed down the hall. With one hand on the wall for support, she made her way to her destination.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus wanted to hold her back. To try and make her understand their reasons and intentions, but he knew stopping her would only make things worse. So, he let her go. Looking toward the medic he braced himself for the inevitable aft chewing. It didn't come.

Ratchet just stood there shaking his head sagely. "Prime, some days I think you are a complete idiot. How do you propose to get her back in here without a fight? Primus, she was a handful as a small organic. What do you think she will be like as a fully functioning femme?"

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: **To all my loyal readers, there will not be an update next week. I'm going out of town for a while and won't be able to post… I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I promise I'll post the following week.

To **Punk Autobot **- You haven't left any comments for a while. I thought you had left. Sorry about the confusion, it really wasn't intentional. To **Flarire** - Thank you I'm glad you like. To **fennecfox03** - Breath! I should have warned you I tell a convoluted and twisted tale. To **Kaida Tori **- Thank you. I hope you didn't read the whole thing in one sitting. Computers cause terrible eye strain. Here is your update. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - CLIFFIE RESOLVED! (?) :P Sunny doesn't do much, be when he gets off his lazy aft he can accomplish great things. To **Hermonine** - Thank you. To **Elariel** - Thank you for that glowing review. It made me smile for an entire day! I like playing Optimus against Ratchet and seeing who comes out on top. Their relationship is so complicated and deep. I have considered putting in a little more of 'Bee and company. Don't hold your breath. Right now Ironhide is dragging my muse around by her neck and demanding his time in the lime light. To **Soului **- Thank you. The 'Bots are so fun. I have rules for writing them though. Each one comes with a set of general guidelines in an attempt to make them understandable and alien.


	26. Mirror, Mirror

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Transformers. I do claim ownership of Sira, even though she does her own thing.

**Rating: **T or R - Language, violence, sexual themes,

Special thanks to **Okami-myrrhibis **for beta reading for me. I have submitted this chapter to her three times, because I keep rewriting it. This is the final result. I have a feeling if she finds this in her inbox one more time she will assault me with my own keyboard. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Mirror, Mirror**_

_She had died. _

She couldn't remember dying.

Leaning against the cold wall she tried to remember anything about her life. Images of her father flickered across her mind. She remembered the last night he was alive; they spent it sitting in front of the hearth fire playing cribbage. She remembered the years they spent living in abandoned barns and scraping for food. She could remember the first day of high school, the first piece of jewelry she sold, her only lover and thousands of other events and people that defined her life, but she couldn't remember the one that had killed her. It seemed important to know who the murderer was. Shuttering her optics she concentrated; willing, demanding, insisting and forcing the memories to come to her.

Vaguely she recalled a child that wasn't a child. A little girl crying for her mother and Death answering that plaintive wail.

Sira doubled over as searing pain tore through her abdomen. It felt like someone had shoved a hot spike into her. It burned hatefully. She was certain that something was trying to rip her in half. Moving a hand to see the wound she found nothing. Her metal body was intact.

Then they came. They slipped into her mind like dark snakes slithering through the summer grass. … Memories. … Incomplete memories throw together without rhyme or reason. A box of loose photographs. They made little sense all jumbled together and out of order, but she let them wash over her. She remembered the resignation of knowing she was going to die. The blood red optics filled with violent delight and the haunting blue ones that held only crushing sorrow. She remembered running as fast as she could through a forgotten place, and Optimus gently holding her while her life drained from her body.

The more memories that came the more confusing they became. Some were mere flickers; there and gone, while others bore into her very soul. Through out it all she felt the pain. The pain her spirit remembered, but her metal body knew nothing of. It was too much and she couldn't take any more. She lashed out and slammed her fist as hard as she could into the tiled wall. The pain shooting up her arm had an immediate effect. It calmed her. It stilled her mind. The rush of memories was gone. Their hold on her broken. The new pain she felt was real. It was the here and now, and it exorcised the ghosts of the recent past away.

Her arm was buried past the elbow into the wall. Electrical conduits brushed along her forearm; sending pleasant tingles. Untangling her arm; she looked at the hole she had made in the wall with a perverse since of satisfaction. The damage was extensive. It was going to take more than spackle to fix it. The power and strength of this metal form was incredible. Looking at her hand again she curled it into a fist and hit the wall with two more rapid punches. The sharp clanks of tile falling to the floor rang out splendidly in her audio receptors. She resisted the urge to lay waste to the bathroom. Blind destruction might make her feel better, but in the end it accomplished nothing. Anyways that was not what she had come here to do.

She had come here to see what they had done to her. Gathering her courage, Sira stepped in front of the series of massive mirrors in the "bi-species shower area". She took one look and her legs gave out. God, this couldn't be her. There was an alien looking back at her. She didn't know who this alien was. It wasn't her. What had the Autobots done?

She lost track of time as she sat there and stared at her reflection. She watched the being before her. Was this really her? Had they really turned her in to one of them? She didn't want to be one of them; she wanted to be what she had always been. They could transfer her soul into another body, but the 'Bots couldn't save the old one? It didn't make sense. Was this her only option for the rest of her life? How long would she live anyways? Optimus _guessed_ he was about nine million years old. Ratchet and Ironhide were even older.

Panic begin to slowly rise within her. She felt overwhelmed and scared. She wanted to choose for herself. Optimus had taken away her right to choose this life or … what were her choices? This or death.

_That _thought stopped the self-indulgent panic. _This or death_. There wasn't a choice to be made. Would she be more accepting if she had made the choice for herself?

Standing slowly she scraped together enough resolve to try. It was all she could do at the moment; just try to carry on. It was what she had always done. Get up each day and see it to the end.

Starting simply, she needed to become accustomed to her new body. It would be sometime before she accepted it, if ever. She briefly wondered if she would live long enough to forget her old body. With her arms slack to her sides she tried to get an overall impression of this new form. Dainty. She was dainty compared to the other mechs. If you could call a height around fifteen feet and a ton plus of metal "dainty". Lacking the armored panels the others had she was almost skeletal in comparison. Smoother, sleeker and without as much … stuff. No tires, no side view mirrors, no headlights; just a naked frame. Was she naked? Could a 'Bot even be naked?

Returning to her self examination, she noticed her arms were long and slender. As were her hands. She liked the legs. The graceful curves reminded her of a dancer's legs. _Very nice. _She almost smiled when she saw her feet. They resembled paws. The robots remembered her mixed ancestry and gave her metal cat's paws, but they looked unfinished. Something was missing. That was a matter to be dealt with later.

She touched her face and frowned; then smiled. Watching the individual facial plates shift to make the expression she wanted. She tried, but couldn't suck on her lower lip. She couldn't wiggle her nose anymore. She couldn't stick out her tongue, and as far as she could tell she didn't even have a tongue or whatever the mech equivalent would be. Her face wasn't as emotive as an organic one. It made her wonder how much harder the Cybertronians had to work at communicating with body language like humans do. Did they even use body language to communicate among themselves? Was this something they had learned from mimicking humans? Would any new arrivals be less expressive?

Questions upon questions and not a single answer. She had so many questions. She wanted to go plant herself on Optimus' desk and demand answers until he was rubbing his face in frustration.

Twisting she tried to get a look at her backside. The light bounced and reflected off of her new, penny color, and she noticed the etchings for the first time. Over the hips, up the abdomen and around her spark chamber she traced the pattern with a finger; unaware that she was being watched.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira had been gone from the med bay, and Ratchet was beginning to worry. When the medic worried, he tended to swear and turn nearby objects into lethal projectiles. Prime took it upon himself to locate the missing femme and bring her back. He knew any of the 'Bots would be willing to accept the challenge, but he wanted a chance to talk with her alone. A chance to see how she would react to his presence. Also, he was the one that made this decision for her.

He had not expected to find her in front of Sunny's mirror, but once he thought about it, it made perfect sense. She would want to see her new form. Thank Primus, he didn't find her in a crumpled mass trying to will herself into deactivation. He had dealt with enough mechs in that condition to last for the rest of his incredibly long life.

Standing back he watched Sira look at herself in the mirror. He was trying to gauge her emotional state before approaching her; as if the holes punched in the wall weren't strong

clues. He to say something, but came up empty. The irony galled him. He was considered one of the greatest elocutionists of Cybertron, but now words failed him. It was a fault he had yet to overcome. He could effortlessly deliver speeches to lead and inspire the masses, but with those closest to him he was a bumbling fool. So he resigned himself to watching her. It was when she started tracing the almost invisible markings around her spark chamber, that he forgot himself, and took a step towards her. He couldn't help it.

His sudden appearance in the reflection startled her. She yelped and jumped. Her unsure legs and the tile floor worked together to betray her and she lost her footing. Optimus grabbed her arm to slow her fall. Instead of landing face first, she wound up on her knees at his feet. Sira looked up at him, and he could see the storm behind her optics. She tried to yank her arm from his hand. He tightened his grip to keep her from pulling away.

Finally, Sira stopped struggling and sat there. She hung her head in defeat; the storm within was abating. Letting go of her upper arm he trailed his fingers along its length until he reached her palm. Giving her hand a gentle tug he motioned for her to stand.

Grabbing his hand she allowed him to help her to her feet. Trying to talk proved impossible when all she could make was an indignant squeaking sound.

"You need to become accustomed to using your vocal processor. Slow down and think about what you want to say," he instructed.

"Go away," she finally managed to say.

Optimus ignored the comment. The words lacked venom, and he doubted she meant them. Touching his hand to the curve of her back he attempted to guide her out of the bathing facility.

"Ratchet wants you back in the med bay." It was a statement not an order.

"No."

"We can go to my office, if you would like to talk?"

Sira's only reply was a single nod. Optimus felt his spark give a little flicker of hope. He didn't trust himself at the moment and didn't want her to receive the wrong impression, so he kept his face blank and unreadable.

Informing Ratchet of the change of plans he shut off the comm. link as the medic began swearing in Cybertronian.

_**XxxX.**_

They were sitting in his office, a great expanse of empty desk between them. Neither had said a word since he pulled a chair out for her. The chivalrous gesture almost made her smile. Only Optimus Prime would study up on human courtesies.

Finally the Autobot commander broke the heavy silence.

"Sira, I blame myself for what has happened to you. I failed to protect you from harm. If there could have been any other way I would have chosen it, but your organic body was dying. I acted out of desperation. If you are angry with me I understand, but do not be angry with anyone else. They were only following my orders." His optics met hers as he sought absolution.

"I am angry. … I am scared … and shocked. I don't know what to think right now. I can't think right now." Her speech was stilted and choppy. She had so much more she wanted to say, but couldn't get the damn words out. She wanted to throw her hands up in the air and curse the fates, or curl into a ball and sob like a lost child, or laugh hysterically at her whole stupid existence. Instead she just sat there in melancholic silence.

Optimus asked warily, "I have failed you in so many ways; can you forgive me?"

Those words hit her hard. How had he failed her? He had brought her in and gave her sanctuary. He comforted her when she thought she had lost everything. He had accepted her for the person she was and hadn't tried to change her. The only thing he had failed to do was mention the fact that if she died he would turn her into a robot. How do you hate the person that did everything within their power to save you? The simple answer is … you don't.

"You did not fail me Optimus," she said as she reached out and touched one of his fingers.

That contact had an immediate effect on the large mech. His whole posture changed and his optics flashed with an intensity she had never seen before. His bearing made her nervous. Had she breached some Cybertronian protocol she had been unaware of? Something that did not apply to organics, but now applied to her. Pulling her hand back she quickly dropped it in her lap and averted her gaze to the floor. She wanted to slink off and hide. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she wanted someone to give her a hug, a bowl of ice cream and tell her it was all going to be okay, even if it wasn't.

Sira steeled herself and said the first thing that came to mind. "You look different now." _Well, that wasn't very intelligent._

"So do you," he responded in a smooth baritone.

She shot him a scathing look.

His chuckle brushed along her metal frame. "I am now one point eight six six six times your height, where as before I was five point zero nine zero nine times your height. Your perspective has changed."

"Thank you Bill Neigh."

Prime's optics were unfocused and distant as he Googled the reference.

"So, now what?" she said in a shaky voice.

The Autobot's gaze softened a little. "What do you mean?" he asked her in return.

"I have no clue how to be …" she motioned to herself and to him.

"First you are going to learn how to control your vocal processor. The only thing I can suggest is actually using it. Eventually, Ratchet will want to run a full diagnostic on you, and that will probably happen soon. As you become accustomed to your new form we will teach you what you will need to know. Sira, I … we going to help and guide you. No one expects you to figure this out on your own."

She let his words sink in. She had absolutely no idea how to live as a mech. She was totally dependent on the Autobots to teach her everything she needed to know; from social interactions to their language to basic functioning. What if they went back to Cybertron? Would she be expected to go with them? Did she want to go with them? What was her place in this new life?

The enormity of it all had finally hit, and she banged her forehead on his desk. She sat with her hands tucked demurely in her lap and her face buried in the desk. A large hand hesitantly rubbed the back of her head and neck. His soft strokes were nice. She allowed herself to become lost in the sensation.

"What am I?" she asked the desk.

"What you are is still under medical care. Optimus, could you stop petting the femme so I can take her back to the med bay for observation. She is in a weakened state, most likely overwhelmed emotionally and doesn't need _you_ bothering her," Ratchet stated.

Tilting her head a little she could see the medic standing in the doorway behind her with his arms crossed over his chest. She gave a suffering moan. She didn't want to go back with Ratchet. She wanted to stay here and be petted.

"I look different. What am I?" she asked again; trying to stall the inevitable.

The medic entered the office. As he walked by her, he gave her back an odd pat and chose a spot on the wall to lean against. "You are basically a femme, but with a few modifications."

"Okay, what is a femme?" Sira crossed her arms on the table and laid her head on top. She was beginning to not feel very good.

It was Optimus that answered her question. "Femmes are a sub-group of Cybertronians. Typically they are smaller and lighter then mechs. They posses many qualities humans would consider feminine. It made sense to give you a form that you would be the most comfortable with."

"So, I'm a female robot?"

"No, you are a female, who is now a femme."

"Ratchet, please make sense." she sighed.

Prime spoke with infinite patience. "Sira, you are thinking of femmes as female. We do not have sexes, you know this. Instead, think of them as the equivalent of an ethnic group. Although, this is a greatly oversimplified analogy. Like Earth, Cybertron has several different groups that make up its population. Mechs are by far the most common. There are also seekers, femmes and microbots to name a few."

Something from several months ago jumped into her thoughts. "Elita-1 was a femme, wasn't she?"

The Autobot leader's expression turned wistful and sad. "Yes. She was their leader. Even after her death the femmes continued to ally themselves with the Autobots. They remained loyal and true until the end."

"What end?" By now Sira was laying on one shoulder with her arms stretched out in front of her. The room was beginning to swim slowly around her. The sensation was strangely enjoyable. She liked the floaty feeling. It combined with Prime's caresses to chase away her distress.

"As far as we know they are all gone; slaughtered by the Decepticons."

Prime's voice seemed faraway and foggy.

Optimus watched Sira's optics dim and then darken. Running a hand affectionately down a limp arm he looked at this COM. "Was that really necessary? I do not believe she would have caused you much trouble."

Ratchet plucked a small black device off Sira's back and began repositioning the smaller femme so he could move her. He hooked one arm under her knees, another behind her back, and lifted. "This way is less stressful to her and to me."

With the protoform safely in his arms the medic turned back to Prime. "You told her about Elita?"

"The topic came up in conversation, so yes, I told her."

The medic looked at his friend for several minutes before he spoke again.

"Optimus, you two were close when Sira was an organic. She may seek out your guidance and … comfort while she adjusts. If this is not something you want then I would suggest distancing yourself."

"I am well aware that she is vulnerable right now. I assure you I have no intentions of betraying her trust or friendship."

Ratchet nodded in understanding. Shifting the femme's weight, he returned to the med bay.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N**: Grrrrrr. These last to chapters were hard to write.

To **Punk Autobot **- Sorry, you were sick. Hope your better. Oh, you know she'll forgive him. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Sira isn't as calm as she seems. She is a cat, and cats will seem all happy until they walk up and bite you. Ratchet has been bugging me to let him use that line. To **Hermonine **- Thank you. To **Novamyth** - You have no idea how dangerous that female is. To **Soului** - Credibility? I has credibility? I thought this was a fun little drabble. Seriously, thank you. Due to time constraints I have had to limit the scope of this fic. You should see the _notebooks_ of material I have no intention of using. To **fennecfox03 **- After I read your review I added a little part to the next chapter. You inspired a little mayhem. To **Fae Child19 **- You have guessed correctly. Glad you liked the last chappy, I hated it.


	27. To Grok Deeply

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Transformers and it is probably for the better. (Wonders off sniffling)

**Rating: **R or T for language, violence, sexual situations, just not in every chapter.

A special thank you to **Okami-myrrhibis **for Beta reading for me, and for going through a bunch of auto pictures I have been sending her. Yes kiddies, that was a small spoiler.

_**XxxX.**_

_**To Grok Deeply**_

_**XxxX.**_

Twenty-six steps, and pivot on the left foot. Twenty-six steps back and pivot on the left foot again.

The scout had been pacing up and down the hallway for a while, and he was certain he had worn a depression in it. Stopping and looking behind him he was relieved to see the finish on the floor wasn't ant more scuffed than before. He didn't want to have cleaning duty again this week.

He continued his pacing. It was a habit he had picked up from Prime vorns ago. He couldn't have picked up the eloquent speaking Optimus was renowned for; that skill would have been useful right now. No, he learned how to pace worriedly, and how to curse low enough so no one could hear.

Bumblebee gave up pacing. It wasn't getting him anywhere. Sam and Mikaela were smart and reasonable people. They approached life and its obstacles with open minds. Also, there was the deep trust the three of them shared, so he should be able to talk to them about anything. Right? He decided to just give them the information. Beyond that he would fly by the seat of his pants, as the humans said. Though, he couldn't figure out how a human could become airborne using the clothing that protects the aft. He turned and headed to the other end of the base.

Finding his humans was easy. They were snuggled together on the couch watching TV. They were always snuggled together, and frequently they were snuggled together on him. He had absolutely no complaints about the human bonding process.

But he needed their complete attention. Walking past them the smaller mech turned off the television, and faced his friends.

"Hey, 'Bee. What's up? We were watching that." the young man complained.

"I know Sam. I am sorry, but I must talk to you about something."

Sam and Mikaela sat up straighter when they heard the seriousness in the 'Bot's voice. The two humans looked at each other, worry immediately etching itself on their young faces. The scout wondered if this was such a good idea, and contemplated taking up Prime on his offer. No, these were his friends, and it was his duty. He had stared Megatron optic to optic on Cybertron. This couldn't be any harder; could it?

"What's wrong? Has something happened?" His humans were starting to become upset.

Bumblebee held his hands up to try and calm Sam and Mikaela. "Nothing is wrong. There is something I need to talk to both of you about and … What I mean to say is … You need to know about … Oh, slag it. Sira isn't dead."

Sam and Mikaela exchanged confused glances and turned their attention back to the yellow mech.

"What do you mean she isn't dead? Optimus told the government she was dead, and he wouldn't lie like that." The statement had been from Mikaela, and it contained tones of absoluteness and a small challenge. It almost made the mech cringe; the humans had a lot to learn about Optimus Prime, and what the great mech was and wasn't capable of.

"Sira is alive and has been under Ratchet's care since … the incident. And Optimus technically did not lie to the government. Your own laws state that the heart has to stop beating, and not be restarted for death to be declared." Holding his hand up he hoped to stall all comments until he could finish. "Her body did die. I was the first to respond and scanned the remains myself. Optimus and Ratchet were able to move her consciousness to a new body. It is called transference, and I do not know the technical details; you would have to talk to Ratchet or Wheeljack or Optimus about that." There he said it.

Two sets of wide eyes were staring at him. "Wait. Are you trying to tell us that Sira has a new body? Is that possible? You can do that? Where did they get a spare body?"

"Sam, the body she now has was built." They were getting to the actual reason behind this discussion.

"Built? What do you mean built? … Built like …" Mikaela pointed towards the scout, and the scout just nodded his head.

Bumblebee could hear two hearts beat faster as his words began to sink in. He didn't want to cause his friends this kind of distress, but they had a right to know. They had a right to decide for themselves if this was what they wanted in their future. He had heard the arguments between Ratchet and Prime about giving someone the right to choose. Although he agreed with Ratchet, he also understood Prime had needed to make a decision for Sira without consent to do so.

"Optimus had a body, a Cybertronian body built for Sira. There were two other bodies built. Bodies that could house your consciousnesses if the need ever arrives." He tried to make his words a solemn as he could. This was not something to be taken lightly.

"You mean, be like you? An Autobot." Sam's eyes held the look of amazement, while a grin slowly spread on his face. "Count me in."

"Sam, it is not that easy. Optimus would not sanction the procedure unless you were dying, and there was no other way. Even then, the transference might not work and we could loose you anyways. This is the first time this has been done with organics and there are still a lot of unanswered questions."

"Yea. But to help, I mean really help fight the Decepticons would be worth it. Mickey and I have been talking about our chances of surviving this to see old age, and we figure our chances are pretty slim; living at ground zero, so to speak. Now, I don't want to die, and neither does she. But dude, to become an Autobot … eventually …" Sam left the statement open. His eager attitude was enough.

Sam was a yes. Turning his blue optics to Mikaela he could see she had pulled her knees to her chest and was chewing on a finger nail while staring at nothing at all. Bumblebee reached out a finger and gently stroked her arm. She wouldn't look at him, and his spark tightened in his chest. The hopes of the three them bonded together for the rest of his lifetime were starting to fade. He made a mental note to have Optimus talk to them, separately.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira took a hesitant look at her hands to see if they were still metal. They were and so was she.

Rolling onto her side she used her arm as a pillow and laid quietly in the semi-darkness of the room. Her mind wondered freely and of its own accord. She didn't try to focus on any topic or concern. Her thoughts would go where they needed to. Maybe not where she wanted them to go, but where they needed to be.

She was aware of the passing of time, and didn't care. Drawing lazy figure eights with her free hand she let the minutes gather into hours. She had yet to accept this transformation, but she wasn't as distraught about it as before. The turmoil of the previous day had subsided some. The shock and fear that clawed at her had lessened, and her thoughts were clearer. Actually, she was bordering on resignation. Not acceptance, resignation. The comfort in knowing that no matter what you do; "X" is going to happen, so just get used to it. No wonder she never went to church.

Sira's thoughts drifted to an evening spent stretched languidly on Prime's forearm. Her, then organic, body absorbing the radiant heat from his armor while the cool night wind played around them. In her mind's eye she saw the flickering points of light that created the constellations of Orion and the great bull he eternally struggles against. In the past months she found herself star gazing more and more, and the Hunter had become her favorite of all the heavenly formations. She could hear the deep melodious voice drift above her, "We did not understand violence until the war. We were innocent to the misery and despair death brings in its wake. Before, I could only name twenty Cybertronians that had actually died; their sparks permanently extinguished. Now there are too many to name."

They were innocent. Tremendously advanced, incredibly intelligent aliens with the technology to travel the stars were once innocent to the turmoil, agony and horror of war, violence and death. What would that be like to know only peace and harmony? Her own people were not the warmongering kind, but acts of dominance and submission were played out in blood. It was one of the reasons she chose to live among humans; she had a better chance of survival. Not that humans were much better. They seemed to be born into violence and death; war, murder, torture, genocide and rape just to name a hand full of atrocities found here. Earth was a violent place where only the strong survive. Evolution at its finest.

But the mechinoids truly _were_ innocent for a time. Then the viper came and crammed a bitter fruit down each and every Cybertronian's throat until they choked. The Autobots longed to return to that innocence. You could see it drift behind their optics whenever they talked of home. They didn't want the knowledge of betrayal, violence and war, but it was too late. They would never be able to return to their innocence. Optimus knew this and he grieved everyday. His sadness was palatable when he thought no one was around.

The more she thought about it, the more incensed she became. Anger began to well within her. This wasn't the white, hot burn that she felt with daily annoyances; this was a colder, harder, clearer emotion. This was hate, and she had a name for it … Decepticon. She hated them for tearing apart a world she didn't know. She hated them for the suffering they caused the ones she had grown to care about, and for destroying the innocence of their own race. She hated them for their transgressions against her world. They were vile abominations that should be eradicated wherever found. A Decepticon had done this to her. A Decepticon had hunted her so he could deliver a killing stroke. He had done this, not for the need of food, or territory or self defense; those reasons she could understand. No, the Decepticon's only reason had been opportunity. He attacked her because he could. He wanted use her to hurt someone else; she had been nothing but a tool. And the Autobots tried to save her life by giving her a new form.

They had pulled her soul from her normal body and stuck it in a metal frame. That meant that the soul, consciousness, life force, or whatever is measurable … quantifiable. Did that mean there was an afterlife, or did the soul dissipate with the body? Did the 'Bots think that they were cheating death moving the soul or spark around? Or was transference just a conveyance? They replaced body parts with a nonchalant attitude, why not the entire body? The more she thought about the concept, the more fascinating and disturbing she found it. Was this why the Cybertronians lived so long? Well, that and the fact that they were made from living metal. Did they choose their new body ahead of time, or was it first-come-first-served? Did the Cybertronians have something like a living will?

"I, Bigfuckinus Roboticus. Of sound CPU and chassis, upon the termination of my current body request to be made into a ground vehicle, and not a flier. The fliers are assholes." Even to her ears … audios her voice was harsh. She really should stop talking to herself. If Ratchet heard her he would question her sanity, and want to poke around in her head. Literally.

She laughed mirthlessly. The noise was cold, metallic and grating; lacking warmth and amusement. Lying on a metal bed in some empty room while rattling around in her own mind was rapidly loosing its appeal. Boredom was rearing its monotonous gray head, and she was growing restless. She had never been able to handle boredom well; it always brought out the worst in her. Time to get up and face the adventures of a new day. There was no telling what the 'Bots had in store for her, might as well get it over with.

Adjusting her position Sira sat on the edge of the recharging bunk swinging her legs, and looking about. The room was intensely bare. Not just empty of any personal items, but totally devoid of anything. Not even an inconspicuous dust-bunny cowered under the bunk. She checked. Even Prime's office had a couple of dust-bunnies living in it. This place was sterile in the most obsessive compulsive way possible. She loathed it.

Hopping off the bunk; she wondered if the mechs had locked her in here. She hadn't exactly been on her best behavior yesterday, and probably deserved being locked a way for a while. Silently, she asked any deity listening to "Please, let the door open. " The thought of staying in that immaculate whiteness frightened her. She studied the door's control panel. It looked nothing like the human version she was accustomed to. Looking down she was disappointed to find the smaller controls absent. And why should they be there? That would make things easy. Fortunately, everything was labeled. Unfortunately, it was all labeled in Cybertronian. Racking her brain … CPU … processor … do-hicky that made little thoughts in her head, she tried to recall which button she had seen Optimus use. She chose the top right one. The entire panel lit up a pleasant green as the door started sliding back. Her delight quickly turned a suffering moan as the interior of the med bay came into view.

She was truly beginning to despise the med bay. She would like to spend some time anywhere else. Hanging upside down over a vat of boiling acid filled with ravenous piranhas and over eager tax collectors was beginning to have a certain appeal. At least the ridiculous mental image lifted her spirit's a little.

Nice to see she wasn't the only one in here today. The red Lamborghini brother sat on an examination table with his back turned to her. He was carrying on about how his yellow counterpart had thumped him upside the head one time too many and his optics weren't focusing correctly. She couldn't help but laugh.

Sideswipe spun his head around so fast she thought it would fall off. She must have startled him. That slack jawed, wide opticed look he was giving her was kind of cute.

"Hello, Ratchet. Hi, Sides'. And _what _did you do to piss off your brother this time?" She said casually.

The warrior just gaped at her. Then his optics lit up with something that could only be described as glee as his face plates spread into a sappy grin.

"Oh, slag. Out! You're fine. Get out!" the medic snapped as he grabbed the other mech and started trying to shove him out of the bay.

Sideswipe was struggling against the CMO. He bounced a few times trying to look over the medic's shoulder. "But …but, "he stammered.

"NO! OUT!"

"But, Raaaaaathcet … "

"No! Don't even think about it. Now get out! You have patrol duty." With a final shove the

Medic evicted the red mech and shut the door.

Sira stood there watching the incident curiously. "Hmm, what's his problem?" she asked the chartreuse mech.

"You. You're his problem. Primus, why couldn't you have waited a couple of minutes before coming out here?" Ratchet snarled.

"Excuse me?" she replied as her optics lit up with indignation at his tone.

The medic imitated a sign, and softened his tone. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're a femme and Sideswipe is his usual self."

"So. Oh …OH!"

Ratchet chuckled as she realized exactly what he meant. Patting her arm he said "Don't worry. I doubt he will wrestle you down in the hallway and try to interface. If the thought even crosses the idiot's processor; Prime would turn him into scrap. Now let's see how you are doing."

Sira hopped up on the table and waited while Ratchet fiddled with his computer.

"Sides' was shocked to see me. How did you keep this a secret from the twins?" she said as she motioned to herself.

"We didn't. The med bay doors were kept locked at all times, and only I, Optimus and Wheeljack had the code. I repaired the twins in their quarters. Did you actually think they could go two and a half weeks without incident or injury?"

Her only comment was a shrug. Nice to know she probably wasn't molested while unconscious, not that she would remember.

"Let's start. Just answer a couple of questions to start with," he instructed. "Any pain or discomfort?"

"No."

"Can you see clearly?"

"Yes."

"Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

Approximately one hundred and eighty- seven questions later the medic was done. Sira didn't know if he was actually finished, or if he gave up. She had answered the last dozen or so questions with a single word, "chipmunk". She really couldn't handle boredom, and it would have been hysterical if Ratchet's hand hadn't been inching towards a wrench. She just smiled coyly.

The rest of the morning was spent with the CMO poking into every nook and crevice of her new body. At first she thought he was doing it in retaliation to "chipmunk", but his warm, gentle hands said otherwise. She felt a ping of guilt for her smartass behavior. It was still unnerving being touched like that. She had never had a medical exam or check up before. The couple of times she had required emergency treatment the physician had been well paid, and well threatened to forget about her.

As she submitted to Ratchet's professional scrutiny she let her mind travel to her past. A past that was starting to feel like someone else's life. She thought about the dark primal forest that hid the temple. She could almost smell the musty, wet dirt and the sharp tang of the ferns. In her minds eye she remembered the shifting sunlight as it filtered through the treetop canopy; a cathedral of nature. A wild place where she could be free and unfettered. She thought about trips to the Caribbean, and days spend indulging in hedonistic laziness. A place to go to chase away winter's chill. Perfect crystalline beaches, the smell of brine, and seas the same clear azure of Prime's optics. She wondered if she could ever take him to such a paradise … A staccato of taps on the top of her head ripped her out of her reverie.

"I am finished," Ratchet stated simply.

Well, about time. She had convinced herself that the medic was checking ever atom in her body. For all she knew, he might have. It wasn't like she was paying much attention to what he was doing. Sitting up she stretched her arms and back. The sensations were nice, but not as enjoyable as they once were.

"Do I need an oil change or my washer fluid topped off?"

Ratchet gave her a stony look. "I hope that was a poor attempt at a joke."

She shrugged. "Can I go now?"

"You may leave. I have notified Optimus that your exam is complete and he is expecting you in his office."

Sira didn't need further prompting. Staying in the med bay one more minute was more than she could stand. Hopping off the table she lost her footing and slipped. Catching the side of the table, she righted herself and made a hasty retreat.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus could hear the delicate footfalls heading towards his office. The steady rhythm was a vast improvement to the stumbling shuffle of yesterday. He had received the results of Ratchet's exam. Both he and the medic had some lingering concerns, but Sira's adjustment was going better then expected. At least her attitude had survived the transference.

A soft knock made him look up from his data pad. He smiled as he waved the copper femme in. Quickly signing off on Ratchet's report, Optimus closed the file. No need having Sira see what the CMO had to say about her.

She sat across from him with her hands tucked in her lap and her head dropped slightly. He was beginning to think of that as her "I-am-harmless-do-not-hurt-me" look. It bothered him that she was this way when near him.

He sat a ration of energon in front of her. Sira sniffed at the swirling pink liquid and made a face. Optimus didn't push; the need to refuel would eventually overcome her hesitation.

"How are you?" he asked.

She raised her head and smiled a little too brightly. "I'm fine."

He allowed his optics to show the concern he felt. She met his gaze and then looked away quickly.

"Sira, be honest with me. How are you really doing?"

She sighed. "I'm better. Not as disoriented as before. I'm still not sure if I want to be one of you, but my options right now are a little limited." He knew she was trying to make light of her situation, and it made his spark tighten within his chest.

"I told you before that we are going to help you. I only ask that you give yourself time. The more you learn and the better accustomed you become to this, the easier it will become."

"You hope."

"I hope." He couldn't help but smile softly; a hint of mischief glittered in her bright green optics. Primus, she _was_ going to be a handful. He was looking forward to the challenge.

"Would you like to know why you are here?" he asked.

"I am a little curious," she replied.

He slid his hand across the table to her. She was statue still watching him. He removed his hand to reveal the human sized book he had been concealing from her. He watched the play of emotions travel across her face. She looked at him with open curiosity, and he motioned for her to take the book. She slid the novel the rest of the way to her and turned it so she could read the title.

"'A Stranger In A Strange Land'. Do you realize the irony here? An alien living on Earth reading a science fiction novel about a human raised by aliens, who is living on Earth," she commented. "The fact that you have begun reading sci-fi is … odd in and of itself."

"Science fiction is humanity's dreams and aspirations for the future. Not that long ago walking on the moon was the realm of science fiction, and the species has accomplished that. It inspires humans to reach for what is seemingly impossible. Science fiction and fantasy tells more about the human psyche than all the research journals available, and it is more enjoyable to read. I am not going to read this; you are going to read it to me."

Her bark of laughter echoed in his office. "You want me to read to you? I sound like shit. Are you sure you want to hear my voice for several hundred pages?"

Optimus made sure his expression was open, but neutral before continuing. "I am fairly certain your statement about sounding like shit is inaccurate. Yes, you are going to read to me. It will be excellent practice for you. The pages are small, and it will improve your fine motor skills; as well as your ability to focus your optics. The more you use your vocal processor the better you will be at controlling the pitch and resonance. Page one, please."

She sat staring at him in total astonishment. He returned her gaze with a look of infinite patience. Finally, she shook her head, and reached for the book. Opening the front cover she didn't even look at the book and said, "' A Stranger In A Strange Land' by Robert A. Heinlein."

Manipulating the thinner, interior paper proved a little more difficult for her. Optimus could feel the corners of his mouth threaten to curl into a smile as he watched her try to lick her finger to aid in turning the pages. It was an entirely human gesture. He doubted most people were aware they even carried out the action while reading. It was also a futile gesture for Sira, since she now lacked a tongue and saliva glands. After a small amount of fumbling and exasperated eye rolling; she made it through the cover pages to the actual text of the story.

Sira sighed. "Are you ready?" she asked him.

He nodded and smiled at her in encouragement.

"Okay. Page one. 'Once upon a time there was a Martian named Valentine Michael Smith. The first human expedition to Mars was selected on the theory that the greatest danger to man was man himself.' Well, no shit. Sorry, I'll continue. 'At that time, eight Terran years after the founding of … "

Sira read to him in a choppy, metallic voice that shouldn't belong to her. She struggled through the first chapter and stopped when she reached the second. Optimus could read her discomfort and embarrassment. He had never seen her embarrassed before. It also let him know that he had chosen the correct course of action. He asked her to continue reading the next chapter, and she threw the book at him.

With great care he retrieved the book off the floor and tossed it back to her. They stared at each other for several long minutes. Silently, Optimus weighed his options. If she made to leave would he stop her? Yes. If need be he would chase her down and drag her back kicking and screaming. This was about more than reading a book; this was about her future survival. The small steps came first, and in many ways they were the most important ones.

Finally, she dropped her gaze and opened the book again. He could feel the tension leave his shoulders when Sira started reading. Half way through the second chapter he began instructing her. She listened to him and tried to do as he asked. A lot of the time she failed, but he continued to encourage her, and she continued to try. At this rate he estimated it would take half the book for him to reach his goal.

Without prompting she started the third chapter. That was when the base alarm sounded, and Ironhide rushed into the office without a preamble.

"Sir, the Decepticons have set mines on the roads in Tranquility. Sideswipe has been seriously injured along with some humans."

"What? How? Autobots roll out!" Prime called over the general comm. line.

_**XxxX.**_

_**A/N**_: Sira is reading from the first page of A Stranger In A Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein copyright 1961. It is a direct quote. If anyone is curious it is a slow read, but well worth the time.

Just to let you know how grumpy Sira is, Chapter one is a little over two pages. Also, Sira needs a 'Bot name. I am accepting any and all ideas. PM with anything that comes to mind, or leave it in the review. The creator of her Cybertronian will get full credit.

Sorry about the chapter title. It's a term from A Stranger In A Strange Land. My brain is tired and couldn't come up with anything better.

To **Punk Autobot**- Thank you. You have no idea how hard it is to keep everyone on track with this story, and you are right. This story could go anywhere. To **Ladyofthebookworms**- I don't know if Ratchet will get to use that quote, but never fear. He has three pages of one liners he wants to say. To **Fea Child19**- Thank you, Sira is used to life going ape-shit without notice. To **fennecfox03**- Tada. Unfortunately, Ratchet wouldn't let things get to out of hand. We had a long argument about who was in charge of the story and he won. To **Kaida Tori**- Thank you. Her alt form will be coming soon. To **Demonic-blackbird**- I love Barricade too, but I needed a really bad, bad guy and he fit's the bill. Thanks. To **Soului- **Thanks. Please, any and all comments are considered. You have no idea how many ideas have been spawned from the reviews I have received. To h**ermonine**- Thank you. To **Miss Hiss**- Fortunately, Prime is a _very_ patient mech.


	28. In A Moment Pt 1

**Disclaimer**: Just read all the pervious disclaimers. Sheesh.

**Warnings**: R or T Language, violence, sexual situations and humor. All the Good stuff.

Thanks to my beta reader **Okami-myrrhibis **for trying to fix _**all **_of my mistakes. Any screw ups are mine and mine alone. Seriously, someone give her a cookie.

_**XxxX.**_

_**In a Moment**_

_**Pt. 1**_

_**XxxX.**_

It only took a moment for the quiet serenity of the Autobot base to vanish. Only a moment for Ironhide to relay the message and everything to be turned upside down.

The thunder from a deep baritone rumbled through the halls as Optimus Prime barked orders to his mechs. When he raised his voice, Sira could feel the sound reverberate in her chest. It took only a moment for Prime to go from the patient, gentle natured leader to supreme commander and battle hardened warrior.

It was a moment Sira would never forget. He took her chin in his hand and leaned down so there were scant inches between them. His blue optics burned with a fierceness she had not seen before. "You are NOT leaving this base for any reason. No matter what occurs you will stay here, where you will be safe." The forceful growl behind his words left no doubt that this was an order not to be questioned. All she could do was nod in acquiescence. The massive Autobot stared at her for the length of a human heartbeat before he turned and left.

Tentatively, Sira stood inside of the doorway of Prime's office where she could watch without being in the way. There was a disconcerting flurry of activity surrounding her. Pounding footfalls rang out clearly, while orders were made in a mix of Cybertronian and English, and underneath it all the hair rising hum of alien weaponry coming online and charging.

Within minutes the chaos was over and the Autobots were on their way to aide their brethren. A hollow silence fell on the base like dust after an August windstorm. It clung heavily to every surface and dared anyone to try and violate the muffled quiet.

Sira stepped into the hallway and turned towards the descending platform. It was empty. The dull thud of the heavy blast doors at the top of the elevator shaft could be heard. Prime had locked her in. Anxiety tightened its grip on her. She wasn't claustrophobic per say, but the thought of being locked away didn't sit well; even if it was for her own protection, and the protection of their home. She shuttered her optics and forced the rising panic back down.

A quiet cough caught her attention. Looking down, towards the source of the sound, she found two humans looking up expectedly at her. She took an involuntary step away from Sam and Mikaela. They were so small and delicate; tiny living dolls created from materials more fragile than fine bone china. She had once been that small and delicate. God, no wonder the 'Bots fretted about their humans so much.

Two sets of eyes stared at her. Curiosity, awe, pity and something indefinable filled the faces of the humans. Sira didn't have a clue what to say to them. What could she say? Her own fear and concern for the Autobots choked out her words.

Mikaela stepped towards her. The woman's movements were cautious and reserved, but she radiated pity. Sira didn't want or need anyone's pity. Pity was for those weaker than yourself. Turning abruptly, Sira left the humans standing alone in the echoing hallway.

_**XxxX.**_

It took only a moment for terror to catch Tranquility in its clawed grasp.

A school bus had been torn in half. Fortunately, no children were on the vehicle when it triggered a Decepticon land mine. A man from Oregon hadn't been so lucky when his Oldsmobile hit one of the explosives. Neither had the young couple nor the retired cop survived when their vehicles set off separate mines. The rest of the injuries and fatalities were caused by other divers panicking and trying to avoid the wreckage on the roads. A massive pile up on the interstate had caused the most damage, with thirty-two cars being involved.

Immediately people rushed to assume it was a terrorist attack, and in a way it was. But it wasn't American citizens that were the primary targets. The humans were just in the way.

Wheeljack had been the first to return to the base. He ran to his lab with an oddly shaped device cradled in his hands. The heavy doors to his work shop closed and the red warning light on the outside lit up. The message was clear; he was dealing with something dangerous, and shouldn't be interrupted.

Next came Optimus, practically carrying the injured Sideswipe. Ratchet and Sunstreaker followed close behind their leader. Sira made a hasty retreat to the nearby ops center when Sunstreaker was ordered to "_Leave the med bay and assist the others top side_". Seeing the yellow warrior face off against Prime was actually scary. The verbal exchange between the two mechs was held entirely in heated, rapid Cybertronian, but finally Sunny turned and headed back outside. The look on the smaller mech's face was brutal and murderous. Barely contained rage swirled within him as he passed her. Sira wondered if Optimus recharged with his doors locked.

After that Sira did the only thing she could do; she hid. There was no place for her, and she had nothing to offer so she kept out of the way. She had decided that she had to the most useless thing in existence. Finding an empty room in the mechs' quarters she shut the door behind her and stayed there. She could have gone back to her old room, but it still held the remnants of her previous life. Not something she felt strong enough to deal with yet.

Lying in the dark room she listened to muted noise of the base on high alert. She tried to sleep or recharge or what ever it she was supposed to do. She couldn't; her mind wouldn't settle. Thoughts of her uncertain future mingled with memories of the past and the night stretched on endlessly before her.

The rising sun brought little relief. She assumed the sun had risen. The slightly oppressive feeling she endured during the daylight hours hung over her like a vale. She felt like crap: tired, grumpy and sluggish. Leaving her room she found the base still in a state of barely controlled mayhem. She headed to the med bay to talk to Ratchet; something wasn't right.

Seeing Sideswipe stretched out and unconscious on the examining table made her pump shudder. Ratchet was wrist deep in the red mech's hip. Sira wasn't squeamish; insides on the outside, splattered blood, missing pieces, none of that bothered her. But this bothered her. Perhaps it was because somebody she knew was the one torn apart. She was grateful she didn't have a stomach anymore; at least she couldn't add nausea to the list of complaints. Then she noticed him standing in the corner with his arms crossed over his chest; those arctic cold optics glaring at her sullenly. Sunstreaker … she knew just enough about him to know she should stay out of his way. The yellow warrior cared only for his brother, and by his brother's side he had stayed … probably all night.

"Sira is there a problem?" the medic asked. She hadn't even realized he had been aware of her.

"No, no problems. I came to check on Sides'." She smiled weakly towards the mechs looking at her. A small lie, but not one she would feel guilty about. There were more important things than her right now.

"He will be fine once I finish running some new lines and putting his hip back together he will be up and causing trouble in a couple of days."

"That's good. I have to go find Optimus." She left the med bay quickly, hoping Ratchet was preoccupied enough to not pay her much attention. She didn't try to find Optimus, she didn't even make a conscious decision where to go; she just let her feet carry her to a quiet corner of the base where she could sit down and be alone.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira didn't know when the military arrived. It didn't surprise her that they showed up; she just didn't realize that they were there.

She had decided to wonder back to her new room and lay down for a little while. Standing at an intersecting hallway she could hear unfamiliar voices and the pounding of booted feet. She changed her direction and headed towards the new commotion.

An older, white haired man in a well cut suit was leading a small group of people down the main corridor. She could see that most of the people present were in military fatigues, but several wore civilian clothes. Even though the congregation was heading away from her; she could hear the white haired man's words clearly.

"… about to see is one of this country's, and the worlds greatest secrets. The aliens have been living here for several years and have peace treaties with the United States of America. They are our allies; try not to …" The words of the well dressed man faded as his group rounded a corner.

Sira turned to head back to her room, and bounced off a solid mass of black metal. "Sorry, Ironhide, I didn't know you were there." Damn, how could something so big be so quiet?

"Come on, there is going to be a debriefing with the EOD techs and Prime wants everybody present," the weapons specialist grumbled.

She opened her mouth to protest her importance at such a meeting, when the mech interrupted her. "Yes, that means you too."

The briefing between the Autobots and the government was interesting, to say the least.

She was impressed with the way the soldiers reacted to the introduction to the Autobots. No one acted as if meeting giant, alien robots was out of the ordinary for them. Maybe it wasn't. She had no clue what was taught in boot camp. Did Alien Etiquette class come right after How to Shine Your Boots?

She did notice that Optimus only introduced Wheeljack and Ironhide. She, along with the rest of the 'Bots, stood in the back of the room. Quietly she asked Ratchet why he and the others weren't introduced. His reply startled her. "Optimus cannot introduce you by your real name. He has chosen to only introduce us on a need to know basis. Wheeljack and Ironhide will be working alongside the humans, the rest of us might not be."

She couldn't use her name? It had never crossed her mind that with a new body would come a new name. Yes, she had used aliases before, but that was strictly for legal reasons. She had still been Sira. Looking at those standing around her: Ratchet, Bumblebee, Sunstreaker, Ironhide and Wheeljack; she decided she really didn't want an alien name. God knows what they called themselves in their native language.

By fretting over the idea of what her new name might be Sira missed the change in topic.

"The devices are simple and efficient," stated Wheeljack. "Whenever a vehicle's tires hit the tripping mechanism a signal is sent to the explosive head. The mine is timed to go off in accordance of the rate of travel for that road. A mine on a residential street would have a longer time delay than a mine located on the highway. The explosion would most likely destroy the spark chamber of any Autobot traveling over it. The only reason Sideswipe is still alive is because he was traveling almost three times the posted speed limit. Had he been traveling any faster the mine might have missed him completely."

"Is there anyway to detect the landmines? A way to sweep an area?" the Secretary of Defense asked.

The engineer cocked his head to the side and looked at the SecDef. "Of course there is. I have made the locators in two sizes: mech and human. An alarm will sound if the locator gets within fifty feet of a mine. If you allow me access to a Blackhawk helicopter, I could hybridize some of the sonar and radar equipment to sweep for the mines from the air. It would be a much more efficient way to cover a large area ..."

After that the discussion turned to tech talk; mostly numbers and letters. She had never considered herself a stupid person, but this was so above her head, she tuned out most of the chatter. Trying to keep up with the conversation was making her head hurt and she really just wanted to go lie down.

"… I understand what a 'media feeding frenzy' is, and it is no excuse for you to refuse our help."

Sira snapped her head up at the sharp tone in Prime's voice. "We are better able to deal with this threat than humans. This is not the first time we have dealt with these tactics from our enemy, and my men understand the danger better."

The Explosive Ordinance Disposal technicians jumped a little when Optimus spoke with that deep resonating tone that resembled thunder. Sira understood. That voice had the same effect on her … sort of.

"Optimus, I understand your desire to help, but right now there are a hundred reporters camped out in Tranquility covering this. All it would take is one mistake. One attack from the Decepticons and the whole world would know about you. Also, my advisors and I agree that the enemy is less likely to engage if their intended targets are not around. We are in the process of a voluntary evacuation of the area, but a large number of people have chosen to stay. I don't want them to become collateral damage. Help us with the tech stuff, advise us on Decepticon tactics, and stay underground." John Keller was staring eyes to optics with the massive Autobot leader. The tension was thick in the room.

She had missed something important while zoning out. What had happened to bring the two allies to such a disagreement? She gave herself a mental kick in the ass … aft for not paying more attention.

Optimus stood and emitted a short growl of frustration as he turned to walk out of the room. "Autobots stand down. Ironhide, Wheeljack continue debriefing the EOD technicians. The rest of you … find something to do."

Optimus left and the proverbial dropped pin could be heard. After several minutes of everyone looking at each other, Wheeljack addressed the bomb squad as if nothing had happened. She had no place here. Discreetly she slipped out the door and headed to her room. A set of intense brown eyes watched her leave.

_**XxxX.**_

As the ex-Sector Seven agent sauntered into the med bay, it took all the medic had not to throw something at the human on general principle. Simmons did not need to be in the med bay. Actually, Simmons didn't need to be in the base at all. The military had set up a temporary HQ on the old airport grounds above. The soldiers sent here were to stay topside. "It appears plausible", was all Prime had said about the arrangements.

"What do you want?" Ratchet curtly asked the man.

"I was wondering where the big guy is. I have a few questions to ask him," Simmons replied, looking around the room like he might find something important or incriminating.

"I believe he is in a meeting with the President."

"Then, maybe you can answer my question? Why is it that I have seen an unfamiliar robot and no one has been informed of the new arrival?"

"She has been, and still is, under medical care. We haven't mentioned her sooner, because quite frankly, we were not sure if she was going to survive," the medic answered. Was a lie by omission truly a lie?

"She? You called it a 'she'. Do big robots have 'shes'?" Simmons raised one eyebrow in lascivious query.

_Slag it to the Pit and back. _

"Agent Simmons, if you have several hours I would be willing to sit you down and explain the differences between mechs and femmes, but right now let's just leave it at 'it's complicated'. We do not have genders as you think of them. Most mechaniods will prefer the male pronoun, but a few prefer the female pronoun." The CMO didn't want to explain anything to the special agent.

_Now, go call Ironhide a "she" and see what happens._

The special agent put his hands in the air. "Hey, I don't care what you call each other. All I know is that it looks like a she, and I don't want to be here when the throw-down-robot-orgy occurs."

The distasteful man made to leave. "Oh, tell your boss I want the paper work on the girl-bot as soon as all of this other stuff settles down."

There was a snort from behind the medic. "A throw-down-robot-orgy? Primus, I wish."

Ratchet didn't even turn to look as he lobbed a nearby screwdriver at the red twin.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira found herself standing outside Prime's office. Actually, she was leaning against the wall, a little left of the doorway, waiting for her equilibrium to stabilize. She decided that being dizzy sucked.

She had spent another torturous night staring at the walls of her new room. She was tired. To be accurate, she felt like hammered dog shit. The gears in her metal frame groaned in protest when she moved. There were moments when she had to stop and concentrate to just remain standing. Was this what mechanics meant when they said, "not firing on all cylinders?" Did she even have cylinders? It took all her will to move, and she needed … something. An indefinable ache was affecting her body.

Leaning against the wall, she realized coming to Prime had been a mistake. The commander was sitting at his desk, gazing off at nothing and drumming his fingers. She could feel dark emotions rolling off the mech in waves. He didn't need her bothering him, when there were people's lives at stake in Tranquility.

Leaning against the wall for support she started heading away from the smoldering emotions. Small tremors started running sporadically along her body. Heading for a quiet hallway, she sat down. Knees drawn up and her head resting on them.

She didn't know how long she sat there. She didn't register the heavy foot falls or the gruff string of expletives. What she did know was that someone had a vicelike grip on her arm and was attempting to drag her to her feet. She acted with instinct. Lashing out with her free hand she sank it deep within the neck cables of her antagonist. Grabbing hold, she pulled with what little strength she had left, wanting to inflict lethal damage, but doubting she could.

The mech roared with pain and rage. Sira impacted the floor with tremendous force when her attacker threw her off of him. She tried to scramble to her feet, but a heavy foot slammed into her back; pinning her down. Still she struggled to free herself. The mech above her applied more pressure. She could hear the groaning of stressed metal, and pain lanced through her.

"Frag it! Would you just be still? I'm not gonna' hurt you … Damn femme."

Sira forced herself to still. Twisting her head she realized Ironhide had his foot planted squarely in her back. She went limp. She had nothing left to give.

"Of all the stupid! … Look at you! Are you too good to ask for a little help?" the warrior snarled.

"Everyone is busy. I didn't want to be in the way," she commented meekly.

"Of course you'll be in the way. We are always in each other's way, and none of us would have it any different. Of all the asinine ideas …" As he griped at her he lifted his foot off her back.

Sira gingerly got to her hands and knees. She was determined to stand up on her own, when two large hands grabbed her around the waist. The weapons specialist effortlessly picked her up and fling over his shoulder. "Shut up and keep still," he told her.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N**: Come on people she needs a name and quickly.

To **SkyHighFan** - Welcome to the mad house. Great another book I have to go find. I have enough stuff to do right now. To **Tiamat1972** - Glad to make you smile. Sira and OP will always be a battle of the wills. They just pick their fights wisely. Sometimes. To **Ladyofthebookworms **- Mikaela is a lot smarter than Sam. To **Punk Autobot **- Thanks. Read the book, it makes you think and question. That chapter about killed me. Hours at the computer. To **hermonine **- Thanks. Alt form in chapter 30. **Library Drone SAR **- Thanks. All names will be collected and saved, then I get to make a choice. To **Miss Hiss **- OP wouldn't be OP if he didn't care, but I never thought that he was really all that goody-two-shoes. He ran an entire planet for crying out loud. He has to have attitude. To **demonic blackbird **- I have always wondered about Starscream too. My mind instantly goes all pervy when I think about it. Go read 'The Name Game' on . I Googled copper and some sites have the symbol that same as female, and others have something totally different. I like the female symbol best. To f**ennecfox03 **- Got your PM and it has been noted. Thanks. Glad you liked Sides'. He is such a pervo. To **Fea** **Child19** - Thank you. To **Elariel** - You made me grin for 2 days. The opening of the chapter had me stumped for a long time. I just stared at my computer trying to figure it out. Knew what I wanted, but the voices in my head were horrifically silent. I have tried to make Sira an interesting OC. I have read so many good starts to Ocs and then somewhere the vibe is lost, and he/she turns into cardboard. There will be more BeeSamMikaela later.


	29. In A Moment Pt 2

**Disclaimer**: Does someone actually think I own the Transformers.

**Warnings**: R or T Language, violence, sexual situations and humor. Angst. Lots of angst.

A huge, special thanks to **okami-myrrhibis **for beta reading for me. I will make a public apology for not running this through the spellchecker before sending it to her. She probably thought an orangutan typed this, and she is partially correct.

_**XxxX**_

_**In a Moment**_

_**Pt, 2**_

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus wasn't happy with Keller's request for the Autobots to remain inside their base; he and his mechs could assist the government in finding the landmines. Instead they were sitting around watching CNN and trying to second guess the Decepticons. He understood that the swarm of reporters and camera crews made it impossible for them to transform to their root mode outside. He understood the assumption that the 'Cons wouldn't attack if the Autobots weren't present. He tried to explain that the assumption was still an assumption, and if an attack did occur the Autobots were better equipped to fend off the aggressors. It was still frustrating. There was so much more they could be doing, if the government would let them. This wasn't the humans' war. This was their war, and they should be leading the search.

He considered ignoring the request, and sending his mechs out anyways. No, that would only strain the already tenuous relationship they had with the government. Secretary Keller was doing what he could, when he could to help the Autobots, and ignoring the request would be an insult. So he relented. His mechs were furious with his decision. Every one of them had expressed grievances with the situation. He quickly gave up attempting to explain and shut himself in his office. With nothing to do but wait his thoughts turned to the should haves of this seeming endless war.

He was brooding, and he knew it. Optimus also knew that the longer he brooded the more depressed he became. Without Jazz to lift his spirits it was tempting to just let the dark emotions engulf him. Primus, he missed the saboteur. But Jazz was gone, the war was still raged, and he still had slagging reports to read.

He turned to his data pad and the reports from the Explosive Ordinance Disposal Squads; where they had been, what they had found, etc. It was a distraction, but not a very good one. At least the military was almost finished sweeping the town. Within a couple of days the humans should leave and the numerous news crews will lose interest and drift away. Life should return to some resemblance of normal for him and his men.

He was distracted from the intel. report. When his CMO opened a private comm. line between them. "_Ratchet to Optimus Prime_"

"_Optimus Prime here. Report_." he said with more than a hint of boredom.

"_Ironhide has hauled your femme into the med bay. It appears that she has not refueled or recharged in several days. Would you like to handle this or shall I, Sir?_" 

Prime placed a hand on his head. Of all the glitch headed things … he hadn't seen Sira in several days, and he assumed … what was it humans said about assuming? Didn't he mince words with a couple of Generals for making assumptions? "_Ratchet, please __refrain from referring to her as mine. She is not mine, but sends her to my office. I will handle this. Is there anything else I need to be informed of?_"

He could almost hear the smirk over the comm. line. "_Sira and Ironhide had … an altercation, and she has a couple of minor dings. Oh Prime, she _is your _femme because no mech with a stable processor has enough patience to put up with her. Ratchet out._"

Optimus growled at the medic's cheeky comment. Standing, he walked through a door at the back of his office and retrieved a ration of energon. Sitting it on his desk he folded his arms across his chest and waited. Off all the asinine things … she had taken on _Ironhide_. He didn't want to know what had started the altercation. He never challenged the old warrior. He didn't have to. The mech had whipped his aft the first time he went to negotiate an alliance with the resistance fighters. 'Hide had been their leader, and he trounced the Prime of Cybertron just because he could. Later the fighters had formed the core of the Autobot ranks.

The femme that arrived looked beat. Both literally and figuratively. Small scrapes along her protoform would have to be buffed out later. Sira wouldn't look at him, and stood just inside the doorway to his office. He watched her for several seconds. He noted the small twitches and the dull optics. He had seen his share of mechs and femmes in this condition coming off the battlefield. Sira was running on reserve power.

"Please sit." His words were heavy with the failure he felt in his spark. She shouldn't be in this condition. He should have checked on her. He should have excused himself from one of the endless meetings and debriefings and found her. Should have. Would have. Could have.

Sira slipped into the chair he motioned to. Optimus sat a cube of energon in front of her. She looked at it with disgust. He squatted down so he could be closer to her level. "Drink this. You need to refuel."

She looked at him for the first time. "It smells like paint thinner, salt and what I think plutonium would smell like. Just between you and me I find it revolting." She words were soft, but there was an aggressive undertone.

This was a new situation. He had never known a mech or femme to refuse to refuel. He had read about human prisoners that would starve themselves to death in political protest. He assumed those accounts were over exaggerated. Now he wasn't so sure. What does that say about a species when individuals are willing to endure a slow painful, death to make a statement? He hoped he never had to fight against the humans.

He spoke to her softly. "You have to drink half this cube before I will let you out of this chair. Otherwise I am going to call in Ironhide and Ratchet and we will hold you down and force it down your throat." He had heard Lennox use similar tactics on his daughter.

Optimus hoped Sira wouldn't call his bluff. The thought of doing that to her did not sit well with him, but he would if necessary. After a few tense moments the coppery femme took hold of the cube and placed it to her lips. He expected her to drink ravenously, but all she did was sip the pink liquid.

It took her a while, but Sira drank exactly half of the cube before she sat it back down. By Primus, she was stubborn, but a deal was a deal and she had completed her end of it. He stood and backed away. Taking her by the wrist he pulled her with him to the door at the back of his office. She didn't struggle, which surprised him. He had expected some defiance.

Opening the door he ushered her into his personal quarters. Releasing her hand, she began to explore the space. Optimus made no move to stop her; Sira would be more comfortable if she familiarized herself with the area.

He watched her with critical optics. The energon was starting to make it's was through her system and she was improving, but the pressing need to recharge was still there. Small tremors shook her frame if she moved too quickly. She turned her back to him and he could see the dent located between her shoulders. He had seen more than one young recruit with similar injuries.

Optimus couldn't decide whose aft needed kicking the most; his, hers, 'Hide's or everybody's.

His room was considerably larger than the rest of the Autobot rooms. Along with the standard recharge bunk, there was a table and chair off to the side. He also had a large flat screen TV and entertainment system that was surrounded with mostly empty shelving. It was the smattering of objects on the shelves that Sira was interested in. She ran her finger along the spines of the books he had gathered; silently reading the titles. She peered curiously at the oddities he had: a pair of antique glasses, a crystal, a picture of a spider web and a clear box holding currency and gemstones. She taped the cube and looked at him; a silent question on her face.

"I retrieved them from your quarters after …" He let his words trail off. She would know what he meant.

"Well, your room is a lot nicer that mine; rank does have its privileges," she joked weakly.

Optimus covered the distance between them in two strides when he saw her optics dim slightly. If he didn't get her into recharge mode soon, she would wind up in stasis lock due to exhaustion. They had both stalled long enough. Grabbing her by the elbow he half dragged, half guided her to the recharge bunk.

"Sit," he told her. She did, and he sat next to her. Holding up his right arm he opened his interface port on his wrist and pulled the connection cable free. It was a silvery filament terminating in a slender spike.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He noted a touch of apprehension in her voice.

"I used to this for Bumblebee. When we found him he was very young and very scared. He couldn't power down enough to go into recharge mode. I would interface with him to access his programming and force him to recharge." Optimus took her right arm and opened the cover on her access port. "And I am going to do the same to you. Before you start protesting, you need to know that if I am unsuccessful you will be sent to Ratchet, and he will not be nearly as gentle."

Swinging his long legs onto the bunk he pulled Sira to him. He shifted his mass until he was lying on his side and the smaller femme had her back pressed against his chest. Humans referred to this position as spooning; he thought of it as a convenient way to handle a foul tempered femme. She was facing away from him and so were her hands, feet and weaponry, if she had any. A quick shove would send her to the floor; buying him enough time to activate his own weapons. _That he even considered such things was testament to the fact that he had been at war far, far too long, _he quietly mused to himself. 

Taking her right hand he deftly slid the spike of his connection cable into her port. Sira physically stiffened at the sensation. Optimus waited. He didn't initiate any exchange; he wasn't going to until she relaxed a little. Forcing her to accept him into her programming would cause excruciatingly pain to her already over-taxed system.

He waited; he could feel her pump thrumming away in her chest; it was working faster than it should have been. Taking his free hand he ran it down her body from shoulder to hip. She didn't complain so he repeated the motion. Within a few strokes he felt her relaxing. He continued petting her, making sure he didn't accidentally brush against any of the highly sensitive wires. It had been an incredibly long time since he had a protoform femme curled next to him.

"I thought interfacing was supposed to be intimate," she stated.

"Isn't this intimate?" he asked back.

"I meant like sexually intimate or the big robot equivalent of sexually intimate."

"It could be. Do you … wish that?" he asked in as neutral of a tone as he could.

Her answer was a soft chuckle. "Not tonight dear, I have a headache."

Optimus could see the corners of her mouth were curled into a sly smile. He wasn't sure exactly how to take her response so he let it go; she wasn't in any shape for vigorous interfacing.

He opened the connection between them, and let her emotions filter to him. Exhaustion, frustration, apprehension and curiosity. _Primus, her curiosity was insatiable._ But under it all he detected a sadness and feeling of unworthiness. She felt unworthy. She felt as if she didn't deserve anything. It made his spark ache thinking that she such a low value of herself. It went a long way to explain her actions the last few days.

He tightened his hold on his emotions. He had to be as clinical and neutral as he could while they were connected. He couldn't let his emotions or thoughts cross the link between them. Sira didn't ask or offer to share with him, and it would be unconscionable for him to do so. Prime had no idea how Ratchet did this as often as he did, and not slip.

It wasn't his place to soothe her troubled soul, but he couldn't be so close and not do anything. He continued stroking her. Head, then neck, down the arm to the top of her free hand, and back to her shoulder down to her hip and thigh. He made the touches a light as possible. The copper femme relaxed even further against him. He could sense the questions forming in her mind, and he hushed her before she could start asking them. Later; there would be time later for her to ask her endless questions.

"First, I would like to take a look at some of the programs Ratchet has locked. Then, I am going to start shutting down your periphery programs; try to remain relaxed. You will be able to detect me within your systems, and if something bothers you or is painful, inform me."

"Why would Ratchet have turned something off?"

Slag it, she asked a question. "It is a standard precaution that is taken with every mech or femme brought online. Your transformation sequences have been shut off, as have your weapons programs, HUD and -"

"Oooh. I have weapons?" She perked up a little.

He chuckled at her response. "No, you have basic weapons programming. Later, you will be fitted with actual weapons, and program upgrades. Then, may Primus have mercy on us all."

Her answer was an indignant snort, but through the connection he detected humor at his comment. He started shutting down her periphery programs one by one. In between each he would pause to give her time to adjust. He could feel her thoughts wonder randomly. The image of an elderly man came to him across their connection. The heavily lined face was surrounded by long silver white hair. Lively human eyes the color of verdigris looked at him.

:Who is he?: Optimus asked over the connection.

:My father: Came the unspoken reply.

:Do you think about him a lot?:

:Every day. When I was a child he used to read to me before bed:

Optimus could feel her sliding deeper and deeper towards recharge. Her thoughts were becoming more and more nonsensical. He found this a little disconcerting; the way random images would flitter across her mind. There was no logic behind the sequence. Nothing to tie the images together. It made him wonder what humans truly meant when they made comments about having _weird_ dreams. Did human dreams get weirder than this?

Sira stirred. In a sleep slurred voice she mumbled, "'Twas brillig and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe: all mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe'."

She was gone. She had slipped far enough that automated process took over and she went into a deep recharge. Optimus quickly accessed her diagnostics to make sure she wasn't glitching. No, nothing was detected. He checked again. Everything was working properly. Backing through the connection he detached himself mentally from her before detaching physically. Laying with her snuggled against him, he absentmindedly rubbed the access port on her wrist, and thought about her last words. They were utter rubbish. He added finding out what Ratchet knew about human dreams to the ever growing list of things to do.

Had she been dreaming? Could she still dream? If she was dreaming did that mean she was asleep and not in recharge? Yes, he was defiantly going to talk to Ratchet, but first there was another mech he wanted to talk to.

_**XxxX.**_

The Weapons Specialist looked up when he heard Optimus enter is workshop. "So are you here to reprimand me?" he asked.

"No, I came to say thank you for bringing a problem to my attention. I only request that you not stand on Sira in the future." The Prime crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall.

Ironhide snorted. "I have the right to defend myself. If someone shoved their hand into your neck and tried to rip out part your neural wiring, you'd react the same way. And I didn't stand on her, I restrained her with my foot."

Several seconds passed as the mechs looked at each other. Ironhide had a couple of things he needed to get off his chest and now was as good of a time as any. "Permission to speak freely, Sir."

"I thought you just did. Permission granted."

The large black mech sat his tools aside, and looked his commanding officer directly in the optic. "Stop coddling the femme. She doesn't need someone to hold her hand; she needs to be taught how to function and how to fight."

Prime's optics narrowed almost imperceptibly. "There has been concern about her emotional condition. If she is pushed before she is ready her mental stability may be at jeopardy."

Ironhide rose to his full height. "If a Decepticon finds her she won't last long enough for anyone to worry about her mental stability. Let go, Optimus. You are doing her a disservice by holding her back. She should have been in intensive training the minute she came online."

The Autobot leader rubbed his face with a hand and cycled his vents into a sigh. "I recall having a similar conversation with you once before."

"We did and that little yellow fragger is still with us and one of the best soldiers I have ever trained. Let me train Sira. She has potential."

"I do not want her to become a soldier." Prime's words were spoken more to himself than the other mech.

"That is not a decision for you to make. We are at war, and if she can't fight then she will become cannon fodder. Let her decide. Primus knows, another set of useful optics and armaments would be a blessing."

Optimus knew the argument was against him. He had been too cautious. He had wanted to ease her into her new life. But his friend was correct. She needed to know how to live as a 'Bot and how to defend herself against other mechs. And she needed to know now. He had made a mistake and she could have paid the price … again.

"When Sira comes out of recharge Ratchet and Wheeljack want to see her, after that you may start training."

Prime wasn't happy. Ironhide could hear the resignation in his voice, but Prime was an exceptional leader and listened to his men when he needed to. The black mech knew he had Bumblebee, Wheeljack and even the twins to back him on this issue. They had all discussed this over several rounds of high grade. Now Prime had reluctantly agreed with him. The only obstacle was Ratchet, and that worry-wart CMO could just stick it up his lime green tailpipe.

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N**: Sira's gibberish is from Jabberwock by Lewis Carroll 1872.

You people are sick! Robot orgies are barely mentioned, and you depraved people start begging. Sick, twisted, perverts, and I love ya'll all the more for it. Hehe.

To **Eerie Iri **- Thank you. To **I-love-me-some-leggypoo **- Thank you. Hmm she could be a lotus car. To **Celesta Sunstar **- Thank you, and this is not that type of story. Not yet. To **Nexmelody** - Don't run and hide, we are all friendly here. Ocs are a bitch. My beta has waggled her finger at me when Sira gets a little "cardboardy". To **Punk Autobot **- Males do recover fast. Unless their dead they have one thing on their mind. Am I right ladies? I can see Sides' being reduced to his spark chamber and CPU, and still wanting someone to "touch it". To **Miss Hiss **- You are a perv. (Wink wink nudge nudge). To T**echnodragon78**, **CasroTigerKin**, **Kaida Tori **and **Hermonine** - Thank you, thank you , thank you and thank you. To **Alpha Dragonwulf **- Glad you like my drabble. I warn you, we are nearing the end, and I don't of any clinics for FF addiction J. I hate that kind of story also, along with MarySues, romances and the like. I have no idea why I'm writing this, but it is fun. To **Fennecfox03** - Thanks and Sira could use a hug about now. To **Demonic blackbird **- Glad you liked. I think Ratchet throws things for show. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Now stop asking questions. Hehe, I was writing that chappy when you reviewed. I'm still not sure what Simmons is gong to do. He is unpredictable. To **Fea Child19 **- Prime has so many facets to his personality. More Primey Prime later. Thanks. To **Everyone **- I _think_ I have a winner in the "Name the Femme" game. I'm not telling right now. The name and winner will be revealed at the appropriate time.


	30. Learning Curve Pt 1

**Disclaimer**: If I owned them do you think I would be writing fan fiction? Hmm, maybe I would.

**Warning**: Ratings - T or R. Language, occasional violence, sexual situations, and angst.

I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. This chapter has not been beta-read, so if there are any glaring mistakes let me know.

Scratch the above part. The Great Okami-myrrhibis betaread this chapter. Thanks Myrrhibis!! All mistakes are still mine.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Learning Curve**_

_**Pt. 1**_

_**XxxX.**_

This room was not the barren four walls that she had claimed as her's. This room was spacious,

and while somewhat austere it had a functional comfort to it. It was someone's retreat from everyday stresses.

Through the fog of first awakening Sira tried to recall how she wound up in this place. The swirling pink liquid caught her optics and jarred her memory. She remembered all too clearly. Rolling over with a piteous moan she begged the powers that ran the universe to let her die here and now.

She waited.

Nothing happened. _Why doesn't that ever work? _

Now she would have to deal with the humiliation of knowing that her stupidity had gotten her in this situation. She didn't want to face Ironhide; she owed him an enormous apology for trying to rip his throat out. Nice to know mechs were built of much sturdier stuff than humans. She didn't want to go anywhere near Ratchet; the medic was going to bolt, weld, tape and glue her to a slab in the med bay. Then yell at her until her audios leaked what ever they would leak. And then there was Optimus. Thinking about the Autobot commander caused shame and humiliation to wash over her. Why he hadn't thrown her out yet? She had to be the biggest failure he has ever seen.

She couldn't hide here all day. She wanted to, but she couldn't. Eventually, he would want his room back. She had never been the-girl-that-the-guy-threw-out-the-next-morning, and she wasn't going to be that girl now. She might be a complete failure as a 'Bot, but she still had a teeny-tiny infinitesimally small shred of dignity left. Actually, that might be all she did have left.

Sitting up she noticed that Optimus had rearranged his quarters. The small table that had been tucked off the side was now positioned in the middle of the room between her and the door leading out. A half full cube of energon was the only item sitting atop said table. She would have to knowingly walk around the table to leave. The message was pretty obvious … "Finish the energon." In her head she could even hear the deep resonating voice say those three words.

She retrieved the cube and sat back down on the edge of the bed. The thick, viscous liquid was still repulsive. It still smelled like chemicals and salt, and damn if her body didn't want it. Drinking the stuff really wasn't that bad. Big robots lacked a sense of taste, which was probably a _very_ good thing. What depressed her was the realization that this was her only form of sustenance for a very long time. No more Salad Nicoise, no more cheeseburgers, no more wine or coffee or tea, no more cheesecake, no more strawberries. Oh, she could almost sell her soul for some really good strawberries, and after a few hundred years of drinking swirly-pink-crap she might actually attempt to do that. Nope, no more food ever again, just this pink sludge that looked like it was created by a six year old girl with a plastic pony obsession. _ Yum, yum_.

Sira sipped the energon and shuddered at the sensation of it sliding down her throat. Why did they have to drink it? Wouldn't it be easier to "main line" it or have something like a gas tank? Come on, they were highly advanced alien robots; there had to be a better way to refuel.

She couldn't help but chuckle a little as she looked around Prime's quarters. In a lilted breathy voice she said to herself, "Dear Diary. Today, I had breakfast in bed, and the bed in question belonged to leader of an advanced civilization. He is really, really, really nice, and he is single. Dot, dot, dot." the last three words were said with increasing sarcasm.

Knocking back the cube she tried to finish it in as few gulps as possible, and she didn't gag. Could she gag? She tucked the question into the ever growing list of questions to ask. Standing she placed the empty cube in the center of the recharge bunk and returned the table to its original place. Looking at her handy work; she deemed it acceptable. The big mech would get it. Turning she stepped out the door.

She jumped when the saw the pearl white mech leaning against the wall in Prime's office. She had expected to be alone. Wheeljack was looking at her with his head cocked to the side like a dog that heard a strange noise.

"Hi, guy. How long have you been here?" she said with a small smile. It never hurt to be nice.

The engineer squinted his optics in a reciprocated smile. "Three hours, twenty-eight minutes and twelve seconds Earth time. I was instructed to take you to the med bay when you came out of recharge."

_Oh great, Ratchet was going to strap her down and yell until he blew his vocal processor. _"So you've been waiting all that time for me to get up. You could have sat down or something." she commented lightly.

"It would be presumptuous of me to sit at the Prime's desk. I do not rank high enough to assume such a privilege." Wheeljack paused before he continued, "Do you always talk to yourself?"

Sira stood in silence. She knew her mouth was agape and didn't really care. He had stood there for three hours because he didn't rank high enough to sit in a chair. A chair was a chair whether it was a gilded throne or a wooden stool. 'Jack should have been able to be comfortable. _Oh, she and Optimus were going to have a talk._

The engineer moved to the door and gestured that it was time to leave. She allowed him to lead her out. When they reached the hallway the mech took her hand and wove it around the crook of his elbow as they walked to the med bay. He chuckled at her discomfort. "Settle down. You never answered my question."

"Yea, I talk to myself. People have told me it's a sign of mental instability."

The Autobot chuckled. "I've been told the same thing many times," he paused. "You are correct; Optimus does not have a bondmate." 'Jack winked at her knowingly.

_What the …? _"I wasn't talking about Optimus," she stammered. "I was making a joke by referring to the stereotypical garbage that fills the journals of young, love sick girls and …oh, Hell. That didn't sound right. What I meant to say was … I was _not_ talking about Optimus!" She had finally found a positive aspect of being a big robot. Big robots didn't blush.

The mech beside her shrugged. Something told her that he was humoring her, and the entire base would know about this conversation later. Did the Autobots revel in making her miserable? Could she go one hour without screwing up?

They reached the med bay none too soon. No matter what torture awaited her in there, it had to be easier than the one she was going through with Wheeljack.

Sira was mildly surprised to see the room empty. Well, it wasn't empty. All of the tools and equipment were still present, but she and Wheeljack were the only ones present. No Sideswipe and no Ratchet. It made her wonder what the medic did when he wasn't in his natural habitat. Looking at his bondmate beside her she decided she didn't need to know the answer to that question.

"Ratchet will be back soon. He is checking on Sideswipe; making sure that the new welds hold properly," the mech stated. That was just a little too freaky, and Sira had decided then and there that Wheeljack could read minds.

The engineer turned and strolled out of the room leaving her alone. She wasn't in the mood to sit, and pacing held little appeal. Glancing around the room she spied the rack of tools on the far wall. The instruments hanging there looked like they were designed by Rob Zombie or Geiger; all sharp edges and weird angles. More torture devices then implements of healing.

Standing in front of the display she ran a finger along the edge of one of the tools and realized it had actually cut a small line into her metal. After a second or two the small incision began hurting. _That was sharp! _She moved to the next item on the board. It was … odd. Vaguely heart shaped with a box and single large button on the top and thin, sharp spades pressed flat sides together where the point should be. She traced a digit along the line of the tool.

"That is an Armor Separator." Sira startled at the voice; knocking the device off its peg, and sending it clattering to the floor. The chartreuse CMO stooped to retrieve to device. He held it up to her and pressed the button on top. The spades on the bottom sprung open with frightening speed. "It's used to spread the chest plates and expose the spark chamber of a mech or femme that is in stasis lock and the auto release is not functioning. I've only used one once." Ratchet hung it on its proper peg.

"Looks painful," she commented.

The medic chuckled. "Oh, it probably is. As soon as Wheeljack returns we will start your desperately needed education." The white mech entered the room when his name was spoken as if summonsed by magic.

Actually, the several hours flew by remarkable fast. Sira learned volumes in that short time span. Her two tutors answered all of her questions and ones she had never thought to ask. It was "Alien Robot Biology 101". At one point she was expecting one of the mechs to pull out an old reel to reel projector and show her an old black and white film about "Little Timmy Everybot and His 'Bot Body". Much to her disappointment, that didn't happen.

She learned that not only was she smaller than the others, but she was designed to be faster and more agile. She learned her armor wasn't as thick, nor would she be able to have as much firepower as the larger mechs. That made sense; big guns were heavy and she lacked the mass to tote around lots of artillery. She learned that large mechs such as Optimus burned fuel at a much slower rate than she did. He could go a week before the need to refuel and recharge began to seriously affect him, but she couldn't. She had much less stamina, and required fuel and rest every couple of days. It surprised her to learn that to some extent 'Bee and the Twins were in a similar situation. They all just idled faster.

She learned that she had a lot more to learn, and there were going to be several more of these sessions. And she learned that Cybertronians can talk for hours and not strain their voices or become fatigued.

When the two mechs finished lecturing Wheeljack held up his hand. Securely lodged between his finger and thumb was something that looked suspiciously like a flash drive. "Are you ready to have some fun?" he asked. A mischievous twinkle lit up his optics.

Sira quickly looked at the medic hoping for salvation. The CMO had a similar expression.

Her pump sped up a little. "Define 'fun'," she with narrowed optics.

_**XxxX. **_

Optimus leaned inside the doorway to the cavernous conference room and watched.

Actually, he made himself watch as Ironhide pushed Sira to her limits. Every blow the lithe little femme received rang out clearly in the empty room, and made his spark ache. The pair wove around each other in an intricate dance of aggressor and defendant. A ballet of combat.

Ironhide swung at his target and she dodged the blow by dropping to all fours at the mech's feet. With a feline grace she sprang up and landed on the large mech's chest, grabbed him by the back of the head for support and landed several nasty punches to his face before 'Hide dislodged her. The black mech gave a satisfied "humph". Optimus knew that tone; the warrior was impressed with Sira's counter move.

He understood the old warrior's methods even if he didn't like them, but Ironhide got results. The veteran had produced some of the best Autobot fighters, and he didn't take this responsibility lightly. Prime's entire inner circle received the same grueling instruction. He himself had spent time under Ironhide's tutelage. Optimus had known Ironhide on a personal level long before becoming Prime. They lived in the same residential sector and bought each other rounds of high grade after long shifts. The ex-architect-turned-warrior and his spark mate were the first to pick up weapons against the Decepticons. The Council branded them vigilantes and criminals, so the pair went into hiding, and shortly thereafter formed the resistance movement. Optimus sought them out for advice and information when The Council and Megatron blatantly ignored his concerns about the rogue mechs terrorizing the southern cities. Had he only focused his optics then; maybe he could have seen that the "rogue" mechs and key Council members had been in league with his brother. He had been so naive and idealistic then.

Prime winced when Ironhide blocked Sira's attack and countered with a vicious blow between her shoulders. She was still sore from the dent the larger mech had given her in the same spot and the pain registered on her face. A sharp hissing was the only sound she made.

The room hadn't been designed for hand to hand combat training, but it was one of the largest areas at the base. He made a mental note to order materials to repair the holes the two combatants had made in the walls. It would be much easier if this could be done outside.

Thank Primus, the military wouldl be leaving in the next couple of days. The government had declared Tranquility free of the "terrorists' bombs", and encouraged its citizens to return to a normal life. Optimus hated to admit it to himself, but he almost sympathized with his mechs and their longing for something else to draw the swarming vulture-like news crews away. He reiterated several times that wishing misery on others for your benefit was both unconscionable and immoral.

Personally, he had no distinct feelings one way or another about reporters. They'd had several news agencies on Cybertron and he quickly learned that they could be your best friend or worst enemy. Before the war he was their champion, and could do no wrong. During the early stages of the war they ridiculed him for being a doomsayer, and gossiped about every aspect of his life; public and private. He couldn't even talk to a mech or femme in public without wild speculations being slathered across the general information channels. When the violence spread and every part of the plant had been touched by that poisonous hand his public image had taken further assault. Not once did he give into the call to curtail and control the news agencies. The Council did enough of that without his consent or support. Freedom of speech was still an ideal he refuseed to let go of, even if he knows the news is frequently spun and twisted to support political agendas and not the truth.

Optimus just wanted everyone to leave the area for one simple reason; as soon as the military and the hoard of reporters reached the city limits he and the Autobots were going to sweep the area for themselves. It wasn't that he didn't trust the humans' abilities. He just wanted to check for his own peace of mind. If this was seen as a redundant waste of time; then so be it. He could power down for recharge knowing that there weren't any Decepticon mines left.

A shriek snapped his attention back to the teacher and student. Ironhide had Sira raised above his head and threw her onto the ledge designed for humans. She landed, rolled and came up on all fours. Her green optics glowing with a feral light, and the overhead lights reflected of her new fiery red and copper coloring. He had been correct in his earlier assessment that the copper protoform would shine teasingly from between the seams of her armor. When Prowl and Hound arrived with the refuges she was going to become very popular.

The CMO had finally let her take on a planetary form. Ratchet and Wheeljack had spent the better part of the day helping Sira choose an alt mode. Over the last three years they had compiled an extensive database of vehicles: cars, trucks, motorcycles, ATVs, planes, helicopters and even construction equipment. Most of the information had been "borrowed" from manufacturer's computers. What they couldn't get through the Internet they scanned on the highway and downloaded the specs into the ever growing database. It was easier to let a new mech access the files and choose an acceptable vehicle at a landing site then take him to the road and hope no one noticed the giant robot scanning their car.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had turned it into a competition. They were trying to see who could collect the most makes and models for the database. Optimus didn't know what the winner received, nor did he want to know. Sometimes it was just easier to turn a blind optic where those two were concerned.

Some of the cars had to have adjustments made to them. Not all models had hardtops, and most mechanoids couldn't become convertibles. Wheeljack had spent countless hours redesigning the topless vehicles so they were more functional for the Autobots. It was one of these modified cars that Sira had finally settled on. Something called a Saturn Sky. He assumed the name invoked mental images of the graceful rings that encircled the sixth planet, but he only thought about bland foggy atmospheres and the exceedingly inhospitable conditions that most of the gaseous planets had. Perhaps that is the difference between dreaming of visiting other worlds and actually having set foot on them.

He heard the femme growl at his weapons specialist. "I'm done. You've beat the shit out of me long enough." Sira had her hands on her knees and cycling her vents at a furious rate to cool her systems.

"Nope, we're not done. Do you think a 'Con will let you take a break? Stand up and defend yourself!" the black mech snarled while his cannons spun furiously.

"Ironhide, I said I'm done!" she snapped.

Optimus watched the exchange silently. He shifted to a more alert position. This was when things occasionally turned serious.

Ironhide was slowly advancing on Sira in a threatening manner. She didn't move; only her optics tracked the mech's approach. She snarled a warning, "Leave. Me. Alone."

Ironhide had pushed Sira to her limits, and now the old mech wanted to see what she was really capable of doing. She was exhausted, sore, injured, and wanted to be done. Would she find the inner strength to continue fighting on or would she buckle in submission? Optimus had his credits riding on her to continue fighting. She had an inner core tougher that any Cybertronian armor ever made. It was one of the facets of her personality he admired.

He barely felt it. A soft whisper caressed his armor with warm, unseen tendrils. Before he could tell Ironhide to stand down the mech launched his attack. Grabbing the femme by the arm Ironhide spun her around so her back was to him and he pinned her to his chest and grabbed her by the throat.

"Let go, you frog fucker!" she hollered. The distinctive sound of a mech roaring in pain followed.

Ironhide shoved her away from him with such force she landed in an ungainly heap on the floor, and rolled onto her back. Arms and legs spread wide; cooling fans and vents working overtime.

The veteran warrior turned and stomped past Prime on his way to the med bay. The black mech was cradling his arm. Optimus thought he saw a look of self-satisfaction on his friend's battle scarred face

_**XxxX.**_

"Of all the …_ stupid _things you could do! You know about her! You know she is a metal manipulator, and you just _had _push her to the point of retaliation! I told you not to come crawling to me when your asinine plan backfired in your ugly face!"

He had expected Ratchet's tirade. It wouldn't be right if the old ninny didn't yell at him while he was being repaired.

"She can still do it Ratchet. None of us knew if she could still do it, but she can. I had to push her pretty fraggin' far, to get it out of her," the weapons specialist responded with barely contained excitement.

"I can see that. I thought you said that you expected her to melt your armor, not stick her hand in a seam and melt the circuitry. You're lucky she didn't target one of your cannons." The medic continued to work on the injured appendage.

"Yea, didn't think she would even think to slip past my armor. Should have expected it though, considering what she tried to do to my neck. Someone has taught her to fight and fight dirty. She knows to target weak areas. Makes you wonder what she could do after some practice and better training." The warrior smiled at the look of utter horror on the other mech's face.

_**XxxX. **_

**A/N: **To **Kaida Tori **- Don't sit too close, you'll get squished. To **fennecfox03 **- Here's the new chappy. Shhh, don't tell anyone, but I had a lot of fun writing that scene. Nothing but good old fluff. To **Miss Hiss **- OP is a Gentle Man, um 'Bot. He didn't do anything that wasn't necessary … in his view. To **Nexmelody **- Thank you. Every time I write your screen name my auto correct changes it to 'enameled'. Now my beta reader is thinking," What auto correct. You mean her spelling and punctuation is worse!?" And invoicing IS the work of the Devil. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - The whole "Oooo, I have weapons?" was for you. Knew you would get a kick out of it. They make Wheeljack proof partitions?? To **Punk Autobot **- a small hint to her name will show up in the next chappy. To **I-love-me-some-leggypoo **- I don't have any robot orgies planed. I do have a little robot smut planed. An orgy would be just too hard to write. (And my husband gives me sideways looks as it is. He read a total smut piece I wrote and has wondered about his sweet little wife ever since). Poor Sira, she just runs off at the mouth sometimes and doesn't think, also she can be a little clueless. To **Fae Child19 **- Thank you. I don't believe Prime is the best at everything; he is just smart enough to surround himself with the best.

I ask the winner to not say anything if you figure out the name. It'll spoil some of the drama later. I do accept PM to let you know if you are correct.


	31. Learning Curve Pt 2

**Disclaimer: **I am broke. The only Transformers I own are the ones collecting dust on the shelves.

**Warnings**: Rated T or R for language, violence, sexual situations and angst. Lots and lots of angst.

A huge thank you goes to **I-love-me-some-leggy-poo **for beta reading for me. I don't think she knew what she was in store for when she took the job.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Learning Curve**_

_**Pt. 2 **_

_**XxxX.**_

The cooling fans were working overtime trying to regulate her body temperature as she sucked huge quantities of air through her vents. Sira knew she should be exhausted and sore, but she wasn't. The rush of tapping into her powers left her giddy and euphoric. She had never felt anything like that before. Every wire, every bolt, every gear, every diode, every router, every … everything in her body hummed with potential. For a brief second, before she thrust some of that power into Ironhide, she knew how every part of her body functioned in relation to every other part. This understanding had noting to do with mechanics or engineering. It was an instinctive knowledge. A visceral cognizance; something that couldn't be put into words.

It produced hyperawareness of herself and everything around her. She felt the power and strength of the warriors spark, and understood immediately that it belonged to another. She almost faltered at the realization that the gruff old mech knew of a love that was total and complete. She had felt Optimus's compassion and his discomfort with the violence before him. Battle had become the focus of his life and he hated everything it stood for. She should tell him she understood what Ironhide was doing; that this wasn't the first time someone had tested her. She had been a student of violence before. Jal had put her through a similar session once. He wanted to see what she could and _would_ do to defend herself. They had spilled some of each others blood on the training mats before he had pinned her down and claimed her as his.

She lay on the hard floor trying to collect herself. Literally. She didn't want to think about Jal. Not here, not now, not in this … state.

The rush; the high was incredible. She reveled in the euphoria and hated it at the same time. Nothing should feel this good. Coming down was going to be a bitch. She hoped she didn't have a screaming migraine later. As her thoughts slowly twisted and rambled in her head she wondered why she wasn't unconscious. Before, whenever she pulled too much power she had to sleep off the effects. But before it never felt like this.

Subtle vibrations coursing through the floor caught her attention. A very large mech was walking silently towards her. Turning her head she watched him approach. She snickered a little. "Hi guy," she said.

Optimus raised a brow arch and knelt beside her. He ran his hand along her arm. "Sira, are you all right? You have sustained some injuries."

His concern for her was so evident it made her chest tighten. Reaching up she touched the side of his face with her hand and smiled at him. "I'll live. Just let me lay here a bit longer. I don't think I could pass a Field Sobriety test right now." She couldn't stop the giggle that escaped her vocal processors. The idea of an actual car getting a DUI was more than funny. She might feel humiliation later for her behavior, but that _would be_ later. Right now everything was about three degrees off center and funnier than Hell.

Sira didn't struggle when Optimus scooped her up in his arms. The fast movement made the room spin just enough that she wondered if she had suffered a little more than dents and scrapes. Shuttering her optics she buried her face in Prime's chest. Along with the slow steady thrum of his pump she could hear a deep rumbling sound. It reminded her of contented purrs Jal would make when they curled around each other.

_**XxxX. **_

Simmons sat at the cheap pressboard and laminate table in his hotel room. He tapped his pen on the notebook he had been scribbling ideas on.

Tap.

He had yet to receive any information on the new girl-bot in town.

Tap.

So far, Prime had been forth coming and co-operative with information on any new arrivals.

Tap.

The aliens seemingly accepted their temporary house arrest without complaint.

Tap.

Ratchet offered to sit him down and "explain" a couple of things.

Simmons sat up straight in the uncomfortable chair. There was some serious shit going on at the Autobot base and he wanted to know what it was. They were hiding something. Something big.

Tipping the chair back on two legs he reached behind him and grabbed his cell phone. Punching one number he waited for the connection to go through.

"Hi, Tom. I'm not coming back to D.C. for a couple more days." He chuckled. "Yea. As soon as the military boys clear out. I think I need to have a little one on one chat with the 'Big Guy'." A pause. "I think the neighbors might be ignoring the HOA covenant. I'll call you when I find something out."

He snapped the phone shut and tossed back onto the lumpy hotel bed. The more he thought about it the more his instincts screamed at him. The aliens were covering up something.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus was leaning against the wall just inside the door to Sira's room with his arms crossed over his massive chest. Ironhide had chosen to remain in the doorway. Both large mechs were watching the medic examine the small femme.

Ratchet spoke softly to Sira as he attended to her. Gentle hands manipulated armor panels and limbs to make sure the damage inflicted by the weapons specialist was only superficial. Finally, the CMO turned to Prime. "She's fine. A little over energized, but fine. Her repair systems should take care of the damage."

"Over energized, how?" asked the Autobot commander.

Ratchet patted his patient on her knee when she flinched at Prime's tone. "I am not one hundred percent sure, but I have a couple of theories."

"What's over energized," Sira asked with as much concern as she could muster; which wasn't very much.

The CMO turned back to the femme sitting beside him on the bunk. "It is a Cybertronian condition not unlike intoxication in organics."

Sira giggled. "Yup, that feels about right."

"I want to know why I get melted circuitry and she gets a buzz," Ironhide growled from his place in the doorway.

"I would like an answer to that question also." There was unspoken demand in Prime's comment.

"Sira, do you know where your … ability comes from? How it works," the medic asked.

The only response Sira could give was a shrug while shaking her head "no". She didn't like where the discussion was headed. The mechs were going to start asking her questions she didn't have the answers for.

Ratchet sent a reassuring smile towards the femme before he asked his next question. "Can you explain how you access your ability?"

The quick cadence of delicate fingers drumming against the metal berth could be heard as Sira tried to gather her thoughts into something near coherent. After a few seconds she looked around to her audience. "Okay. It's always here," she started, tapping the center of her chest. "But it is usually stays buried. I have to concentrate and visualize what I want. I mean really, really concentrate. Totally block everything out. Usually, I try to imagine a ladle being dipped into a stewpot. I know it's a silly thing to think of, but it works." She hesitantly looked at those in her cramped quarters; ready to hear scoffs and comments. None came.

"And then what," Optimus encouraged.

"Well, then I use what is in the ladle. I can feel the power contained within me and I just use it. A little at a time if I'm shaping jewelry, or all at once like … " Sira let her words trail off. She didn't relish the idea of that memory being brought up. Just mentally skirting around that event had a sobering effect on her. She would rather be drunk … over energized.

"Like what," Prime asked.

She sat there weighing her response. "Like when Barricade came after me." Her words echoed coldly in the room. She glanced at Optimus; it was like watching a door slam shut. All emotions from the Autobot were instantly gone and only a calm neutral vestige remained.

"If you don't use all of the … power what happens to it," the question was from Ratchet and it was a welcome distraction from Prime.

"I can't keep it for very long. It just dissipates."

"And when you defended yourself against Ironhide, did you use the entire ladle or just part?"

Sira looked at the medic. "Part. I wanted him to leave me alone, not hurt him … too much."

Ratchet leaned his weight back and placed a hand on each knee. The look of triumph was evident on his facial plates. "I was wondering if that was the case. Sira, your organic body couldn't use the energy so it leeched out rather quickly. Am I correct?"

The femme nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"Now you have a metal form that can and does utilize the energy. I am guessing that the unused portion went straight into your systems and in an effect over energized you. It was quite the rush wasn't it?" The medic winked at her.

Sira sat staring at Ratchet with a dumbfounded look on her face. She never heard Ironhide whisper into Prime's audios "I assume you _are_ capable of handling an overcharge femme." Nor did she notice the glacial look Optimus gave his long time friend. All she heard was the guffawing laughter of the black mech as he walked down the hallway.

_**XxxX.**_

Sira was sitting cross-legged on Prime's recharge bunk with a familiar book resting in her hand. Optimus had taken a seat at the small table across the room; his long legs stretched out in front of him and a look of relaxed contentment on his face. She had been reading to the great mech for a while.

The medic had completed his exam and left her alone with Optimus. For several long minutes he just stared at her with is arms crossed over his chest. She fought the urge to fidget under his intense scrutiny_. Damn it, she had done nothing wrong, and didn't appreciate being made to feel like a kid in the Principle's office_. Finally, Optimus said, "Come with me." Sira didn't argue and followed the massive Autobot.

Had someone suggested that she read aloud as a way to unwind from the days stresses, well quite frankly, she would have laughed at that foolish person. Reading to _yourself _was a great way to unwind, but reading aloud was a torture embraced by Literature teachers the world over. It proved the perfect distraction for both of them. The longer she read the more relaxed and open her companion became. The powerful emotions Optimus had shut away earlier seemed to fade like clouds in the noontime sky. The more relaxed her audience of one became the harder she tried to entertain him. Gesticulating, giving different characters different voices and just trying to make this more than a monotone string of words. Occasionally she was rewarded for her efforts with a wry smile from the mech across the room.

"'But how, from the viewpoint of a Martian, did man differ from all the other animals? Would a race that could levitate be impressed with engineering? If so, would the Aswan Dam, or a thousand miles of coral reef, win first prize? Man's self-awareness? Sheer conceit, there was no way to prove that sperm whales or sequoias were not philosophers and poets exceeding any human merit.' Personally I'm not sure I would want to hear tree poetry. And what, Oh Great- Leader-of-a-Super-Advanced-Alien-Race, is the difference between mankind and all the animals of the Earth?" Sira asked.

Prime steepled his fingers and remained quiet.

"Come on Big Guy, what're your thoughts on the subject? Don't worry about offending me. I'm a half-breed … well was a half-breed. I don't regard humans as highly as they regard themselves. And don't give me the politically correct, all Primey, love the universe answer. I want to hear what you really think."

She should have known the way that Optimus cocked his head and raised a brow arch that she was in for a long night. For several hours they argued back and forth over the nature of sentience, what it was and what it wasn't. Her people's definition was so much more open for interpretation than the Cybertronian definition. The philosophical differences between the two races made the discussion lively and bordered on heated. Neither even tried to guess what a human would think or say.

"We only knew of five other races of sentient organics before discovering Earth, and they are nothing like humans. Truthfully, they were seen as inferior; almost animalistic in their behaviors and responses," Optimus confessed.

"If it helps, I never met a sentient toaster," she quipped.

Optimus ignored her glib remark and continued on. "I didn't think that my viewpoints were different from any other mech until I accepted the mantle of Prime. I was forced to look within myself and I realized I did not agree with the status quo nor could I justify the rationale behind it. I had to change things, but I also had to balance my own beliefs against the beliefs of populace I was chosen to lead."

Prime and Sira had enough conversations that she knew he was changing the topic and tone. Not tonight. Tonight she wasn't in the mood for one of his deep, analytical, soul searching, discussions. "So basically a subversive radical, you, were chosen to lead a closed minded stagnant race?"

"I have never considered myself a 'subversive radical'," he retorted with a small amount of indignation.

"Yea, and most people don't consider Jesus Christ or Martin Luther King Jr. subversive radicals either, but they were. Anyone who attempts to change the status quo is a radical. If they succeeded, then they are a hero. If they fail, then they are a villain. Tell me this, were you successful? Did you make the changes you sat out to accomplish?" Her expression was open.

The mech was silent for a few seconds before answering her question. "Yes, _we_ were able to start changing enough viewpoints to make a difference. I am not being boastful when I say that we were able to usher in a new Golden Age of Cybertron."

"Well, then you did good. Not many people can add 'ushered in a Golden Age' to their resume," she said light tone. This conversation was threatening to become way too serious for the mood she was in.

And her mood was shifting to tired. The more she thought about it the more tired she became. Sira didn't have to check a clock to know what time it was. Even underground she could feel the sun advance towards the Eastern horizon. She needed to rest before Ironhide collected her for the next round of torture … training. She stretched and moved across the room to return the book to its place on the shelf. She could feel his optics follow her.

"I think I'll call it a night, or perhaps I'll call it a morning." she said as she headed to the door of his room.

Optimus stood and followed her. "Sira, do you … are you going to be able to power down enough to recharge?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, but I have to try. If it doesn't work, I'll give you a call."

Prime nodded in understanding, trying to hide his disappointment. He knew she wouldn't call.

**XxxX.**

The military finally left and the reporters quickly followed suit. Without anything shocking or disturbing to drag across millions of TV screens, the media had to look elsewhere for carnage to sensationalize. That was perfectly acceptable with Optimus Prime. He was waiting for the long shadows of the late day to fade into darkness. Once night fell, they were going to begin their own sweep of Tranquility.

He had asked permission to extend their sensor array to include the entire nearby town in an attempt to curtail any further Decepticon activities, but the government had denied him. "_The possible infringement of citizens' privacy_" had been the official reasoning. His explanation that the sensors couldn't tell one human from another or any other organic species of a similar size was met with open skepticism. Apparently, the government officials couldn't believe that there were limits to Cybertronian technology. At the end of the conference call only he and Secretary Keller remained on the line. The human began talking about how in a few months there was going to be an election and the Autobots were going to have to establish relationships with the officials of a new administration. Optimus asked what the Secretary was hinting at. "Some time it is easier to receive forgiveness then permission," was the man's response. Optimus decided not to mention his plans for this evening.

Standing near the abandoned control tower, he turned his optics away from the skies to survey his mechs. Against his better judgment, they were all outside. One big happy target for any seeker flying overhead. Wheeljack had assured him that the changes made in the sensor array would detect anything larger than an eagle long before it crossed into their territory. Still, it never hurt to have his optics skyward. Sensors could fail.

The sharp ring of metal crashing into metal followed by a thud pulled his attention to the tarmac. Ironhide had volunteered Bumblebee to help in training Sira. Currently, the femme was lying on her back and the yellow scout was shaking loose his shoulder gears. He must have missed something _interesting _because Ironhide was laughing and Sir had one arm raised with the middle finger pointing to the heavens.

"I have decided that you will never be able to take her before the Council. The last thing you need is for her to flip them off and call them all 'frog fuckers'," Ratchet commented.

Optimus looked down and to his left where the medic was sitting on the dusty earth next to Wheeljack. Their shoulders were touching and almost a dozen data pads spread out around them. He couldn't help but smile at the mental image of the fiery femme snarling obscenities at the dignified and stuffy council members.

"Fortunately, I doubt they would comprehend any references she made to fornication with amphibians," he replied with pseudo seriousness. Wheeljack's good natured chuckles could be heard echoing in the breeze.

Turning his gaze to the cloudless blue dome above, Optimus conceded to the fact that he was enjoying the lazy afternoon as much as his mechs. This rare tranquility made the war seem distant; a shimmering specter far on the horizon. It also made him want to end the violence that much more. Earth had given them a respite from the madness and chaos that had consumed their lives for so long. Looking again at the pair seated next to him, Optimus realized how unusual it was to see the open affection between the two. Wheeljack was rubbing his bonded's leg, while the other pointed to something on the pad they were both going over. The war had taught them all to keep their relationships secretive; their enemies had learned early on to target an Autobot's bondmate before the Autobot.

A flash of color drew Prime's attention back the lessons being conducted on the runway. Sira was crouched on all fours, intent on Bumblebee's movements. The late day sun shone on the copper and red armor setting it ablaze. Optimus watched as Sira charged at full speed and launched herself at the scout. She covered a considerable distance between them in one leap and grabbed 'Bee by the face. Her momentum spun him around and they both went down in a heap. Ironhide knelt beside them talking; undoubtedly giving instructions. They repeated the same attack several times. Once 'Bee sidestepped and tried to grab the femme in midair and missed. Sira landed, rolled and came up on two feet. The yellow mech charged after her, and the chase was on. The training had turned into an impromptu game of tag, as the two dodged and pursued each other around the airport.

Ironhide walked back to where Optimus stood; shaking his head. "Kids," the veteran said as way of explanation.

"How is she doing?" Optimus asked. Sira ran by and was tackled by Bumblebee, who had cut her off. The two wrestled a bit before the scout threw her off of him and they ran out of sight around the back of the hanger.

Ironhide shook his head again. "Those high velocity attacks of hers are brutal. She can easily topple a mech my size, and once she has weapons at her disposal, I doubt a Decepticon would be getting back up ... ever. I know you don't approve, but she is at a distinct disadvantage in hand to hand combat. The faster she can deactivate an opponent the better off she will be. I would like permission to begin upgrading her with weapons."

Optimus stared his weapons specialist in the optics. He knew the two sitting nearby were watching intently. After a long second he nodded his head. "What you want to upgrade her with first?"

His friend's answer surprised him. "The claws."

Before he could comment one of the data pads piled near Wheeljack and Ratchet began beeping. The engineer tossed the digital tablets around errantly until he found the correct one. Looking up he said, "Sir. There is a single vehicle on county road Fifty-two and it is headed this way."

Down time was over. "Optimus Prime to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Intercept the vehicle located due south of here and report who is driving," he commanded into his comm. link. Off in the distance, two dust trails could be seen merging into one as the twins sped towards the intruder. Bumblebee and Sira approached the gathering in the shadow of the control tower; both watching the distant signs of Lamborghinis on the hunt.

Within seconds Sideswipe reported back over the general line. "You should see this, Sir. There is a black SUV being driven by a really big asshole. It's amazing."

Optimus sighed wearily. "Clarify."

"Agent Simmons is coming for a visit."

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N**: HOA - Home Owners Association in case someone didn't know. I didn't know until a couple of months ago. Also, I have no idea how they name county roads along the Utah/California border. Around here most are named and State roads are numbered.

Again the book is A Stranger In A Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein.

To **Novamyth **- XD Ratchet had his hands full. He hit 'Hide before and after that scene. To **Ladyofthebookworms** - She still has it and it works differently. Those cars are beautiful. To **Punk** **Autobot **- hehe you down loaded a picture. I saw a silver sky parked about a half a block from my house. It had Cali plates. To **Miss Hiss **- A dirty mind is a terrible thing to waste XD. To **hermonine** - Sira will get to show off her abilities later. To **Fae Child19 **- The take on fuel is not original. The TF Movie Guide by Simon Furman states the OP has a "slow-burn engine and continually recycles expended fuel". Reasoning that out lead to what you read. That's my take on it anyways. Hehe OP gets great gas mileage. To **fennecfox03** - Thank you. I started choosing potential Alt forms around Botcon. She was totally different until we parked next to a Sky in KC. I was squealing like and idiot. "That's it! That's it!" Hubby just laughed and walked off. He knew.


	32. Learning Curve Pt 3

**Disclaimer: **Bla, bla bla. I don't own. Bla, bla, bla.

**Warnings: **Rating R or T. Language, violence, Sexual situations and humor.

Thank you **I-love-me-some-leggypoo **for fixing my mistakes. For they are many, and any you find are still mine. Did I ever mention I barely passed grammar class?

I would like to dedicate this chapter to **Flyingtwinkie** aka the Motorcycle Momma. Get well.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Learning Curve**_

_**Pt. 3**_

_**XxxX.**_

Simmons watched as one of the Lamborghinis pull along side of his vehicle while the other one took up a position behind him. A trickle of apprehension crawled up his spine. Prime had never sent out a welcoming party before. For all of his bluster and devil-may-care attitude, Simmons understood that he was dealing with aliens. Very large, heavily armed aliens that could squash him into a pulpy mess without exerting any effort. And aliens had alien thoughts and alien agendas.

Like the two mechs escorting him to the base. If the big black robot was the muscle, then these two were the Dobermans, and Simmons had a suspicion that only Optimus held their leashes. The yellow one was openly hostile to everything in existence while his red counterpart was always smiling and joking, but looking at a person like he was trying to figure out what he could use them for. Their files had "warrior" down for occupation-function. Prime had entered that data himself and it caused a few eyebrows to rise in D.C. Even the gun happy Ironhide's profile went something like, "Weapons Specialist, warrior, advisor and bodyguard to the Prime, instructor …" But the two brothers had only warrior, and warrior was synonymous with soldier or fighter or trained killer. These two had no other function other than _that_?

"Yes, sir. Big aliens with big alien agendas," the special agent said to himself. The aliens may be allies of the United States, but allies frequently had their own goals in mind when they made alliances, and he wanted to make sure the alien's goals didn't involve anything along the lines of global domination. He didn't really think it did, but something just wasn't kosher here.

As Simmons pulled into the airport proper he was startled to find all the friendly NBEs gathered together and out in the open. To see them all present and accounted for was unusual. Typically one or three would be missing, and Prime always had a legitimate explanation for the absences: on patrol, in recharge, in medical, taking the lovebirds on a date, those sort of things, but rarely were they all together. It was suspicious.

He viewed the scene before him. The two sleek Italian sports cars transformed into annoyed robots and stomped away. A green medic and the weird scientist were picking up the PDAs the 'Bots had made for themselves. The little piss yellow bastard was grouped up with the black one and the girlbot. She resembled the others now; like car that got all rearranged and decided to stand up. Strangely she looked even more feminine. Simmons watched her slip out of sight behind the massive gun freak. _So you don't like attention; I know you aren't shy. None of the NBEs are shy; so, what are you hiding sweetheart? _the agent thought to himself. Images of little baby alien robots flittered across Simmons' mind. The ridiculousness of it almost made him laugh, alien robots don't have babies. Do they?

Simmons turned his attention to the Big Guy. The red and blue flame painted mech was standing a little apart from the others with his hands on his hips. "I'm really hurt. Looks like you were having a party and I wasn't invited," the agent said in words dripping with sarcasm.

The Autobot commander didn't even bother to kneel when he addressed the agent. "We were running training simulations. What is you reason for coming today? I thought you were heading back to Washington." Prime's voice was commanding, but not hostile.

"Actually, I need a few questions answered…now. Also, it's hotter than Hell out here, and you guys might not notice the temperature difference, but it _is_ August and this _is_ the desert. Let's go inside." Getting away from the heat wasn't Simmons only reason for going into the base. He just wanted to make sure there wasn't anything unsanctioned going on inside. The government quickly figured out to limit what the crazy Autobot scientist could and couldn't "experiment" with. The nut job had called a top ranking General, at two in the morning, wanting to know where he could procure some weapons grade plutonium.

Simmons followed Prime into the hanger. It looked a little more inviting since the military had repaired the windows, patched the holes and hung a new door. A new coat of silver aluminum paint actually made the shit hole almost look good. Perhaps, you could make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Maybe not silk, maybe cheap vinyl.

_**XxxX.**_

Simmons stood at the edge of the ledge in the conference room. The railing had been removed and was thrown to one side. Spotted around the walls were obvious repairs which still needed to be painted. Most of the human furniture had also been removed. Two new flags hung draping their wooden poles on either side of the door way. One was obviously the old Stars and Stripes, but the other Simmons had never seen before. He asked about it and Optimus unfurled the enormous cloth to display a white Autobot mask on a pure red field.

"So what happened in here?" the agent queried looking about the conference room.

"Redecorating," came the curt reply.

"All right let's cut the crap, Optimus. I know you are up to something and I have a feeling it has to do with the girlbot. You told us that your species doesn't have sexes and all of a sudden a female shows up. I have asked for information on her and you haven't sent a thing. I suggest you start answering some questions, or your actions may be interpreted as hostile." The last bit was stretching it a little and Simmons knew it, but he wasn't above lying a little to get to the truth.

The Autobot sighed and rubbed his face; a sign that he was frustrated. Simmons wondered if it was new gesture he had picked up from watching people, or one the mech had always used.

There were several quite seconds before Prime began speaking. "I did not falsify any information when I told you we do not have sexes as you think of them. She is not a true female, she is a femme. Femmes are a subgroup of Cybertronians, as Caucasians are a subgroup of humans. What I am going to tell you is … delicate information. We do not like discussing certain aspects of the war."

"Delicate information? I only deal in delicate information. So, don't worry, this isn't going on my blog or anything," Simmons snapped.

When Prime continued his voice was heavy with sorrow and regret. "The femmes were always a small but fierce group. When the war erupted they allied with the Autobots and fought side by side with us. The Decepticons went out of their way to rid Cybertron of our strongest allies. They were merciless in the eradication. By the time my crew and I left to search for the Allspark there was only one known femme left. Bumblebee lead one of the best squadrons and she was Second in Command. I had since heard rumors that she was deactivated in battle, but as far as I know a body has of yet been recovered. We are hoping there are a few left in hiding but even that is a slim hope. The 'girlbot', as you call her, is not able to defend herself yet." the word girlbot was said with such disdain Simmons knew he had insulted Prime. The mech continued, "I wanted to postpone sharing information about her until she had her feet under her, to use the human phrase. The Decepticons would love nothing more than to find a defenseless femme among our ranks."

Simmons stood in silence letting the aliens words sink in. "You are talking about genocide. The Decepticons committed genocide against the femmes, and now you have one here." The man whistled a single note. This was more complicated than he had originally suspected.

Optimus nodded his great head solemnly.

"So how likely is it that we are going to have little baby robots running round in a couple of years?"

The frown that shaped itself on Prime's face was intimidating to say the least. The Autobot leaned forward until he was only a few feet from the man. "The chances of a bonded pair producing a spark are one in one hundred million, and the involvement of a femme barely increases those odds. The Allspark was our primary means of reproduction, and it was destroyed. The femme will_ not _be reduced to functioning as a _broodmare_, if that is what you are insinuating. We do not expect to ever see another sparkling. …Several of the mechs here have lost their bondmates, or sparklings during the war. These are painful subjects for us, and I am only going to warn you once, Agent Simmons. If you insist upon making snide remarks along those lines I cannot be held responsible for the actions of the offended."

Simmons did not move. He wasn't terrified and frozen in fear. It was due to the amount of information Prime had just imparted. There had been speculations about the future of the NBEs, but the aliens had remained doggedly quiet on the subject. Now he knew for certain, these were the last of their kind. There might be several thousand of them floating around the cosmos, but eventually attrition would take its toll and they would be gone. Did Prime even realize what he said?

"So what do you call the femme? She has to have a name." Simmons asked trying to move the subject to something less touchy.

For a brief moment total confusion flickered over the mechs face, before he responded. "Velocity. Her name is Velocity."

_**XxxX. **_

The crimson and copper femme stood before him, and politely answered all of his questions. She even nice enough to allow him to take digital photos of her in robot and car form. She came across as shy and demure, and Simmons couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to commit mass murder before the day was over. It had to be something in the way she stood totally relaxed with a Mona Lisa smile on her face, and her hands balled into tight fists. Every so often, the agent could hear small gears whine with stress. His second wife often had a similar countenance when he came home two or three days late from work.

Optimus said Cybertronians didn't have sexes, but a pissed off female was a pissed off female, no matter what the species. And what stood before him was a pissed off female. Simmons typed the information Velocity and Optimus had given him as fast as he could into his laptop. The data was pretty basic, more general Identification then anything else. Height, approximate weight, function, rank, armaments, color and distinguishing markings. He had been a little surprised at her alternate form though. "A Saturn. You chose a Saturn, not a Porsche or a Maserati or something flashy, but a Saturn."

Velocity actually looked a little offended. "What's wrong with a Saturn? It's nice, it fits, and I thought the idea was to blend in. I almost went with the Opel GT'Amie, but I wasn't sure they were going to reach this continent. I turned down everything from Volkswagen"

The agent finished the report and told the newest NEB she could leave. She gave him a curt little nod and left the room. Prime also excused himself and left Simmons alone to finish up. He couldn't help but laugh to himself. Somewhere on this base there was going to be a screaming-knockdown-drag-out-fight between those two about who knows what, but he could see it in the way she glared at the Autobot leader. Looking around the room Simons wondered if that was what happened in here.

Taking an SD card from his pocket Simmons slipped it into the computer and transferred the data on Velocity before he wiped the computer's memory. He would tell to Keller and Banachek what he knew. Filing the data on the femme could wait, he saw no harm in giving the NBEs a couple of weeks.

_**XxxX**_.

Slag it!

He had seen the look of pure animosity cross her face the moment Simmons had greeted her as Velocity. With the agent standing there he couldn't say a fragging thing to her to calm her down. The longer the interview went on the madder she became. Mad enough that she hid it under a veneer of calm pleasantness. Mad enough he knew he had to defuse the situation before she found an unwitting target.

Optimus was four strides behind her when she turned down one of the newer corridors. He wasn't surprised; she always sought solitude when she was upset. He wasn't surprised when he turned the corner to find her waiting for him. Sira swung at him; the intent was deadly clear.

Prime grabbed her by the wrist with one hand and pushed her into the wall with the other. Capturing the other hand he pinned her arms above her head and leaned his weight against her, effectively pinning her. A quick kick sideways spread her legs enough to keep her off balance so she couldn't kick at him with her feet.

"You will not attack me!" he roared in her face.

Sira growled back; straining against him with everything she had, gears whined on protest as she struggled to free herself. He pushed harder to keep her in place. Her optics were blazing with unrestrained fury. Looking into their violent green depths he wondered if he was going to have to offline her. If she called up her powers he would be left with no other choice.

Optimus pulled her away from the wall and slammed her into it with almost enough force to dent. "Stop it!" he yelled. "What is wrong with you?" he continued in a softer tone.

"What's wrong? What's wrong? You named me you pompous asshole!" she screamed at him, and struggled some more.

"I had no choice. Simmons would have become even more suspicious if I told him you didn't have a name."

"Oh, really? You never thought this was going to come up? I had. I had already thought of several names to go by. But you never asked. You just jumped in and chose something without giving it any thought. Without thinking of what I might like." The words were biting and harsh. Had she been organic he would have thought she was about to cry.

"I was going to talk to you about this tomorrow, but Simmons beat me to it. I didn't just randomly choose the name. I thought about every femme I have known and her name, and what it meant. I had also picked out Quickfire as a possibility, but discarded it." He was softening his tone as he spoke hoping she would also calm.

"Quickfire? That sounds like a brand of charcoal briquette," she snapped peevishly at him.

Dear Primus, she was mad. He could feel her testing his hold on her. He hadn't eased up yet and he wasn't going to until he was certain she wouldn't use it as a chance to retaliate. "This has to about more than your name. Please Sira, talk to me," he pleaded with her. Whispering the words in an attempt to regain control.

"Don't call me Sira! The name is Velocity. Remember! Sira died at the hands of a 'Con or do you not remember that fact. You made me into this and then had the gall to name me! I am not your creation!" she yelled in his face.

"I never thought you were my creation. I am sorry, I should have talked to you about all of this first. I should have asked you to come up with a new name, but I didn't have time to do either. Circumstances have forced me to make decisions without any input from you. I am sorry, but you will not spend the rest of your life taking it out on me. If you hate me then I suggest you find someway to view me as only your superior officer and not your friend."

She had stopped struggling, but the anger and pain echoed in her optics. Her voice sounded broken and hollow. "I don't hate you. I just feel like a little more of me dies everyday and a little more of Velocity comes to life. I have been 'Sira' my entire life. That word also helped define who I was. Now I am Velocity, and I don't know who that is."

"Sira, you are not diying." he tried to reason with her.

"I might as well be. I am not who I was. If I live for a couple of million years will I ever remember being Sira, or will I only remember being Velocity?"

Optimus rolled off of her and slid his back down the wall until he was sitting. He pulled the distraught femme with him so she wound up in his lap. Wrapping both arms tightly around her, he pinned her to him. He could feel her testing his hold. "I don't know. I wish I could tell you that you would always remember your life as a woman, but I can't. I can't remember the earlier days of my life. Those memories were stored away in a file and the file eroded, so I purged it," he confessed while tapping his head.

Sira looked at him with what was either horror or humor or some strange combination of both only she could express.

"I'm scared," she finally said. "I'm terrified of the future. And for once in my life I'm afraid I'll be alone. Before alone wasn't so bad I knew who I was and how to handle things. Now, I have no idea who I am and just getting from day to day is a challenge."

"I know, but you won't be alone. Someone will always be there for you. I promise," and he meant it.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus watched the two vehicles raced across the dry ground. Neither the pearl white Shelby GTR nor the blazing red Saturn Sky were not made for off road travel, but they were managing just fine, and at speeds no sane driver would attempt. The little red car was scant inches away from the other's rear bumper as they swerved, and cut tight turns in unison in the distance.

He enjoyed watching Wheeljack in vehicle form. The engineer had a grace and elegance that never seemed to translate to his root mode. Where the twins had sheer speed, 'Jack had agility. The mech had pulled off maneuvers during battle no other would even dare to attempt. It was for this reason that Optimus personally asked Wheeljack to oversee this portion of Sira's training.

Sira, she would never be Velocity to him. He referred to her by that name in front of the others, but when they were alone; she was and would always be Sira. He was truly impressed by her. The more they demanded of her to learn and master the harder she pushed herself. There were many nights he watched her enter her quarters and collapse on the bunk instantly falling into a deep recharge mode; not even bothering to shut the door behind her, her energy and stamina completely spent. He would quietly shut off the lights and close the door to her room. The temptation to tell the others ease up on her was strong, but he resisted. She was coming into her own under the nonstop challenges. Actually, she seemed to flourish … finally.

Sam and Mikaela were also watching the femme change and adapt. Sam especially paid attention to the areas Sira seemed to have the most trouble in. Prime wondered if the young man was mentally preparing himself for the day that he may have to endure the same.

One by one, Sira's programming had been unlocked and she instantly had to figure out how to cope. The Heads Up Display all mechs relied upon had been a disaster. Within an hour she wanted it turned back off. "I don't need to know what the air speed is. Hey, look. The dust is blowing it must be windy. And what is all this Cybertronian glyph crap?" she complained wiggling her fingers in front of her face. "I can't read it. Don't need it. Make it gone." No amount of arguing could change her mind. Finally, he and Ratchet reached a compromise with her; everything extra off but the status display. She accepted that, but wanted to change the colors from blue(normal functioning), white (mild stress, superficial injuries), yellow(moderate injury), mauve (severe distress or injury) and grey(impending death or stasis lock, which ever came first) to green, yellow, orange, red and black. Ratchet threw a screaming fit and several tools. She looked the fuming medic in the optic and said, "Oh, I take it that means 'no'." By Primus, she could move fast.

She did seem to enjoy the different visual spectrums that were available to her. He had found her sitting cross-legged in front of a nondescript bush. She had been looking at the vegetation in a whole new light. Enthusiastically patting the ground next to her, she invited him to join. They spent hours working their way through all of the light wave lengths and comparing the differences it made on the plant's appearance. He allowed himself to become infected by her wonder and excitement. It was one of the nights they spent sitting under the stars in deep discussion instead of in his quarters reading and arguing.

The two sports cars were joined by a couple of Lamborghinis. Optimus could only imagine what was being said back and forth between the four vehicles. The internal communications lines were a source of perverse entertainment for Sira. The first time they tried hers she instantly fell over laughing; mumbling something about the voices in her head telling her to do things. The medic sent him a look of concern, and Prime just waved him away. Sometimes Sira's sense of humor needed a translator.

The twins veered off and headed towards him. He was fairly certain that Wheeljack told them to leave. 'Jack was easygoing, but he wasn't above pulling rank when need be, and he did rank above the twins. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe passed him and continued to the base. They never acknowledged that the Prime was nearby. No doubt now that they were harassing the femme. Sideswipe in particular had to be watched closely. His continuous propositioning was going to get him shot. Bets were riding on it.

A noise behind Optimus caught his attention, turning he saw Ironhide and Ratchet walking towards him. He nodded in greeting.

"I hope she can drive better than she can transform," the CMO grumbled.

Prime chuckled. "She only jammed up once. Let her practice." It had taken Ratchet several minutes to dislodge the two armor panels so Sira could finish her first transformation. Fortunately, most of the process of changing from root mode to vehicle mode was automated and run by sub-routines. As soon as the femme figured out to relax and let those routines take over she was transforming successfully.

The sun flashed off of the engineer's snowy surface as he drove by the three mechs, and very close behind was Sira. Now she was attempting to pull along side the larger car. He slammed on his breaks and cut sharply to the left forcing the smaller roadster to take evasive action or be struck. Wheeljack speed off towards the western horizon, and Sira quickly closed the distance between them. Once again she was inches from the other car's bumper as they zigzagged around the desert.

After she had been outfitted with claws, the sparring sessions had become fewer and further between. Her hands weren't so damaging, because the claws had to be small enough to retract fully within her fingers. It was the talons on her feet that proved to be the most dangerous. They were large enough they didn't even retract fully. She quickly figured out how to lock onto and mech with her hands while using her feet to slip between armor plates and shred the delicate circuitry and tubing underneath. The dummy that had been rigged for her to practice with didn't last very long. Optimus found the practices disturbing to watch. There was something primal and savage that shone brightly in Sira' optics during those times. It was a reminder that even though she inhabited a Cybertronian's body she had never been a Cybertronian nor had she ever been a human. She was something completely alien to both.

Without warning the crimson femme locked her brakes and fishtailed out of control. The rear of the car overtook the front as she spun in tight circles. The red car came to an abrupt halt as a great cloud of dust billowed up obscuring the view.

Optimus was instantly running in her direction. "Sira, what is your status?" he bellowed over the comm. line.

Silence

"Sira, report NOW!"

"Eeuwa. I ran over something and … and it's stuck. I can feel it dripping," she whined back.

"I've got it, Sir. I'm closer and can assist sooner." It was Wheeljack. The engineer had turned around and disappeared into the swirling dust.

Optimus slowed to a walk s he continued to head towards the pair. It Felt like his spark had instantly froze with fear and he needed to calm down. As he came closer and the wind blew the dust away; he could see the engineer was now kneeling beside Sira looking under her chassis. "I fear the small mammal is beyond repair. Part of it is wrapped around her axel and I have yet to locate the rest. Exactly how did you do this?"

"I don't know, just get it out!"

"_Prime, I thought she was a predator species?" _came the weapons specialist's voice over the comm. Line.

"_No, what she is, is a walking contradiction_." was the medic's retort.

"_You two stop it_," Optimus ordered back.

By now 'Jack was laying on his side with one hand underneath the scarlet vehicle. He pulled out a mangled lump of fur and ears. "Lepus townsendii I assume. Or perhaps Lepus californicus; they both inhabit this region. Anyways I would suggest a really long shower with a high pressure hose to remove all the little pieces," he said as he patted Sira's hood.

If a car could look upset she did. "Can I transform, or will that make it worse?"

"Oh, you can transform, and it will make it worse. There isn't anything else to do other than remove the … remains," Wheeljack commented happily.

Sira transformed and stood up. She looked at the smear that ran along her chest and shoulder. A tuft of brown grey fur was sticking out of her shoulder joint. She didn't look at Optimus as she stomped by, but he was certain he heard something about "stupid, fucking, suicidal jackrabbits".

_**XxxX. **_

**A/N: **the flag is from War Journal on DA. If you haven't seen it, go check it out. It is a fan comic of the highest caliber. I had no involvement in this whatsoever. It is something to share. Just remove the spaces for the link. tf-war-journal./ art/ WAR-JOURNAL-COVER-A- 73367091

**Fennecfox03** came up with the name **Velocity**. Congratulations! (horns blow and people cheer)

To **Flyingtwinkie** - How are you doing? I can see the mechs that traveled with OP getting to know him and treating him differently than other Autobots that come to Earth later. To **hermonine** - thank you. To **Ladyofthebookworms **- Shh, wait and see. To **Nexmelody** - The claws are nasty, and she can use them well. To **fennecfox03 **- It changes the rules up a little and make things interesting. 'Hide is such an ass at times. To **Kiada Tori **- Oh she likes the claws. To **Punk Autobot **- 'Bee sees her as more of a little sister. Her powers are now all or nothing. Remember that. To **Fae Child19 **- The guide has issues, but it is a great reference for stats. Wiki's - Telitran 1, the Identification and Price Guide and the TF Ultimate Guide are also helpful. A drunk Sira is a mellow Sira. To **Demonic-blackbird **- I would have loved to have more of the Ratchet-Wheeljack thing going, but time and my slow tying have prevented me from delving any further, so all readers get are snip-its. Sorry.


	33. Intruder

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. Don't own. Never will. Totally broke. You get the picture.

**Warnings**: rated R or T for language, violence, sexual situations and humor. Just not all the time.

Everyone hug **I-love-me-some-leggypoo **for beta reading. She has her work cut out for her. All mistakes are still mine.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Intruder**_

_**XxxX.**_

The silence at this hour was so heavy one could almost feel its caresses. It lazily swirled around the base, shushing all noises and enrobing her in a quiet solitude like a soft blanket. She liked stillness during this time of the day; it was her time to be alone and to think.

Sitting in the half-light of the commissary, Sira was absentmindedly running a finger around the edge of an almost empty cube of energon. The data pad to her right flickered as the information across the screen changed to show an increase in electrical consumption in an Autobots' personal area. Hmm. Someone was up, and turned on the lights. If she wanted she could have traced the source and seen exactly who was moving about, but she didn't it wasn't that important.

With a few taps, she changed to screen to show the sensor array that surrounded the base. All was clear; nothing giving off a Cybertronian energy signature was detected, only small groups of organics scattered around the countryside. The signals were most likely deer or the group of teens that were camping in the Northern corner. A quick glanced showed it was not the campers, they hadn't moved from their spots for a couple of hours, probably asleep since life signs were still detected. There had been some discussion about whether or not to call the Sheriff's Department in to break up the underage age group, but Optimus decided to leave them alone. He didn't see any harm in the youths being out there. His order was to watch the situation incase the humans got into any trouble; then and only then would they intervene.

Sira had actually been shocked when Optimus assigned her watch duty. He acted as if he was the most sensible thing to do, and she had been flattered that he thought she was capable of handling _any_ responsibility at all. _Score one for the femme, _she thought to herself. The other 'Bots chided her about getting assigned the worst shift available. She didn't mind, from the witching hour until the just before the dawn had always belonged to her. Anyways, she only had two or three shifts a week since most of her time was filled with training of some sort.

A soft noise alerted her to the presence, just as her proximity alarms went off on her Heads Up Display. Oh, how she hated the scrolling text that would appear to the left on her vision. Optimus had all but begged her to try to adjust to the HUD. "It will be a vital instrument if you are ever in a battle situation," he reasoned. At least she had the option of turning it off when her nerves couldn't handle anymore. Wheeljack had been kind enough to help her with a translation program, so she could actually understand the data, but the automated atmospheric readings still irked her.

She turned off the HUD and looked down. A human male was standing near her feet; his brown hair was tousled from sleep and his eyes were still rimy. "Hey, Sam. Why are you up?" she asked him.

He yawned and stretched with an unselfconscious abandon. "I wanted to talk."

Sira checked her data pad. "Optimus is up; the lights are on in his office. I'm sure he would help you with whatever is bothering you at five thirty-four in the morning."

She watched Sam scratched the back of his neck; it was such a cute, nervous gesture. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh … you do?" There was no point trying to hide her surprise, she couldn't. Carefully she removed the cube of energon to another table and quickly checked for spills. No one was sure exactly how a human would react to energon exposure, but both Wheeljack and Ratchet agreed, "It wouldn't be a good situation". So it was considered necessary to keep all areas were free of the fuel.

Reaching down she cupped both hands together for Sam to climb into; she wasn't large enough to pick a person up one handed … unless she grabbed someone by a limb and dangled them around like an abused toy. Gently setting her hands on the table, she allowed the young man to climb off at his leisure.

Sira smiled amiably. "Are you sure you don't want to speak to Optimus? He is soooo much better at imparting words of profound wisdom than I am."

"Yea, I've heard the kinds of _profound _words you can impart," Sam said jokingly. If she had a tongue, she would have stuck it out at him.

"The word is profane, not profound. So talk to me. I warn you though, I charge buy the hour and I refuse to discuss your sex life," she quipped, and watched Sam's cheeks turned a rich rosy color. _Touché. _

"I … I was wondering, what's it like? I mean you are the only person that can tell me what being …" He moved his hand around to signify her. "… like them is like. God, I hope I didn't just say something wrong." She knew he added that last part because the smile that had been on her face just slid off.

Forcing the smile to return, she reassured the man that he had done nothing wrong. "It's different. Very different and I can't describe it. Honestly, I still think I will wake up and this will all be a weird dream. Some days I see things or do things that scare the living shit out of me, and other days I think this is the most amazing thing ever. Fortunately, the amazing days are starting to vastly out number the scared shitless days. Sometimes I think that I'm an abomination, and other times this feels so very right; like I should have been a 'Bot all along. And transforming into a car and speeding along at over one hundred miles an hour is a total rush. It should be illegal to feel something that exhilarating."

Sam graced her with a goofy smile. If she had actually figured out how to scan someone, she would have been informed that his heart rate and blood pressure just dropped. She didn't need to scan the man, his body language told her what she needed to know; that he was relaxing; becoming comfortable.

"I guess I was wondering why you've had such a rough time at adjusting. I mean, it's like you didn't know how to do anything for a while and you tried to give up. Is it that hard learning to be like them?" The man's enquiry was so honest and reasonable she had to answer him.

"I had trouble because I was didn't want this, and I _did _give up for a while. I would have rather died then go through with what the Autobots did to me … or so I thought. If I sound weak or cowardly then so be it, but that is the truth. Sam, I am not a brave person, but part of me wouldn't give up, and that part was pretty mad at the other part for trying to giving up. Does this make sense or do I sound schizophrenic?"

The man before her chuckled and shook his head. "No, you make sense. When I running from Megatron part of me wanted to just give him the Allspark, then another part of me was furious at the first part for even thinking such a stupid thing. I wouldn't go around saying things like that; not many people would understand."

They shared a laugh and a new understanding that they were a little more alike than either had thought.

A peaceable silence fell between them, when the young man cleared his throat. "Mikaela won't even talk to 'Bee or me about … you know … becoming like you."

_Ahh, the truth comes out_.

"Sam, have you ever thought that she might be afraid. Let's face it, Optimus won't do a thing until one of you is at the point of death, and trust me that isn't a great place to be." _Where the Hell was Optimus? He should be having this conversation, not her_.

"Yea, the death thing is a little scary. Mickey and I have talked about how we may or may not survive another battle. I mean, we both lucked out the last time, but eventually our luck will run out. She accepts that she might die, but not that she could be given a second chance to live."

"Sam, Prime is almost nine million years old. Think about it…nine million years, and he isn't even considered middle aged by their standards. That is a damn long time to live. Haven't you met someone say eight-five or ninety years of age that seems tired? They are tired of the stresses that life has thrown at them everyday. They are tired of the losses that they have endured. Tired of life, and they just seem ready for it to be over. To live a life as a human, there is an end to it all, but to live a life as a one of them, well there isn't an end in sight…ever. Eons of life and love, loss, joy sorrow, anger, stress, happiness, and hate. If you ever endure transference, you will eventually see everything around you wither and die. You may even outlive your own planet. This endless life is natural to them, but it may become too great of a burden for us. Then what? There are worse fates then death, Sam. Could this be what Mikaela is afraid of?"

The silence around them was heavy, and she could see the thoughts running through his head. He was young; he needed to think things over a little more. To him his life seemed to stretch out endlessly before him. Give him a few more years and let a couple of lines mar that youthful face and he will have a different outlook.

"Sam," Sira continued in the same serious tone. "You are going to marry Mikaela, correct? What happens if you die young and the Autobots cannot save your consciousness? Is she supposed to go with her life? Is she supposed to remarry; continue on?"

The human shrugged. "Well, yea. I would like for her to be happy. I suppose she would try and remarry."

"Now, what if you were both like me, and you die? Would she be able to find a Cybertronian attractive enough to try to have a relationship with him, or would she go through the rest of her long life alone. What if you become a mech and she remains a human? How would your marriage survive that? Could you stand to watch her grow old, or would you start pestering Optimus for other options? These are the things that you need to be thinking about. Bring these issues up and see if she is willing to discuss them"

Sam finally, shook his head to clear away the thoughts. He graced her with a lopsided grin and said, "I thought Optimus was the only one around here that could be profound and wise. Maybe he is rubbing off on you."

Thoughts of flicking the irreverent male off the table crossed her mind. "Don't tell anyone; it will ruin my reputation," she growled threateningly. Sam's smile got even bigger and he raised a hand with the index and middle finger extended. "Scout's Honor," he said. Sira couldn't help but chuckle.

"Why don't you tell Mikaela to come talk to me? I'll answer her every question truthfully and in excruciating detail, but I won't try to talk her into anything. I'm not going to try to alleviate her fears or sugar coat anything, but I will give her information _if _she wants it. Sam, do not try to push her into making a decision. If she comes around to the idea then she comes around; if not, then let it go. She will love you more for it." Sira felt like she was biting off more then she wanted to, but at least someone was going to have the information needed to make an _informed _decision. She would have liked for someone have done the same for her.

The man smiled with such an open gratitude she couldn't help but smile back.

"Have you heard, we've decided to move up the wedding to this fall? We figured why not. We are already living together here and the 'Bots consider us bondmates, so it is just the legal things that needed to be done. What's the weather going to be like today? We're going to look at some of the nearby parks. We want to have you guys at the wedding, so we thought someplace outside and with lots of close parking would be perfect."

Sira tapped the data pad. "Looks like there's a little cold front is moving in. You might want a jacket." Scooping up Sam, she deposited him to the floor. "Now go away. I have to return to central ops and look like I did something tonight. The boss is a real grouch if he catches you with your feet propped up and a Mahjongg score higher than his."

As Sam disappeared down the hallway, Sira wondered once again what she had gotten herself into. There were distinct advantages to living life as a reclusive hermit.

_**XxxX. **_

The day was almost perfect. The sky was a pale blue, and dotted with the white puffy clouds only young children drew. A cool breeze had forced the relentless summer heat to loosen its grip on the land for a couple of days. It was a promise of the milder autumn weather to come.

Sam sat with his head leaned against the window, and thought about the conversation he had this morning with Sira. He hadn't been able to get back to sleep, and wanted to tell Mickey what the femme had said, but it would wait. Right now was just too wonderful to spoil. Beside him, his fiancée unfolded and refolded the map in her lap, circling potential areas to look over for their wedding.

Their wedding. The words warmed his soul and made butterflies flutter around inside of his chest. He was going to marry the girl of his dreams. She really was his, and she really did love him.

Much to his parents disappointment he and Mikaela had decided on a small informal ceremony. Just good friends and close family; a cook out for the reception. Something easy, simple and to the point. Her parents didn't really have an opinion one way or another, they were just glad he was marring their daughter before she wound up pregnant. The Banes' family said they would help with the cost, but Sam turned down the offer. Optimus had already said CE Technologies would pay for everything; it was his gift to them.

Damn, this had to be the longest red light on the entire planet, Sam thought to himself. Looking through Bumblebee's windshield, he could see that three of the four lights at the intersection were red, and presumably so was the last one since no one was moving. Great, call the city; the lights were screwed up.

Without warning the yellow camaro lurched forward ramming the car in front them shoving it forward a couple of feet, and then Bumblebee backed up so he could make a sharp turn into the oncoming lane. Luckily, there was no one there. "What the Hell, 'Bee!"

The Autobot's response was drowned out by ground shaking explosions on either side of them. Sam and Mikaela covered their ears and ducked down inside their friend.

Sam could fell the scout in car form weave and dodge as explosions erupted around them in a disorienting storm if blinding light and deafening sound. His ears were ringing and he was beginning to think he was going to throw up. All he caught were snippets of what his friend was trying to say to them. The words "'Cons" and "ambush" stood out clearly in the quiet between explosions.

They were slammed against their seatbelts as the Autobot came to an abrupt stop and started to back up at a dizzying sped. Sam saw the shadow fall from the sky and land in front of them. The seeker tried to grab the smaller Autobot, but barely missed, its talons raking across the sun yellow and night black stripes that decorated the mech's hood.

'Bee slammed his breaks on and used the momentum to whip his front end around. He shifted gears and sped away from the Decepticon as fast as he could. He was playing this dangerous game. He couldn't out run the seeker, but he could out maneuver the flier, swerving and evading, playing peek-a-boo behind buildings and under bridges, all the while heading towards a specific place.

"Mikaela," the Autobot started in his cool slightly metallic voice. "Do you have your tools?" Another missile slammed into the ground near them and exploded, throwing up flames and black smoke. The woman nodded her head vigorously; knowing that their guardian could somehow senses the movement.

"Good. I am taking us to the parking garage at the Saint Mercy Medical Hospital. When I tell you to I want …" Another explosion and close enough it shook the Autobot and his passengers. "… I want you to jump out and hide among the cars. There is a second Decepticon closing in on our location. When he has left the area, steal a vehicle and leave Tranquility. Do not head to the base, I am going to try and lure the enemy there."

"Steal? You want us to steal a car? Are you insane? We could go to jail!" Sam stammered while his fiancée gathered the loose objects inside the car and shoving them into her oversized purse.

The four story-parking garage came into view. Bumblebee cut across traffic causing minor accidents in his wake, but it couldn't be helped. He had his friends to protect, and the enemy to fight. The scout felt bad about the minor damage his actions caused, but it was just that …_minor_ damage. Lives were more important than the material things humans' valued so much. Hitting the entrance ramp at a jarring speed the camaro entered into the florescent lighting and deep shadows of the parking garage.

He slowed just enough to allow the humans to tuck-and-roll, as they say, before he sped on his way. He hated leaving his humans behind, but this was the only way he could ensure their safety, for he didn't know how long he could continue to avoid the seeker's missiles.

Sam huddled between a late model sedan and a blue minivan with peeling paint; his arms protectively wrapped around the woman he loved. As his eyes adjusted to the half-light he realized he was scared, truly and deeply terrified. At Mission City, he had been scared, but he had also been clueless. This time he is well aware of what the enemy is capable of doing and what is at stake. His entire body was screaming for him to run, and there he sat, waiting for the monsters to find them. He wasn't disappointed. Within minutes, he saw a car slip into the concrete structure. It was gunmetal grey with curved European lines and the chill of death radiating from it.

Without a preamble, Mikaela stood up and pulled him with her. She pinned him against the minivan and began groping and kissing. It would have been amazingly erotic if the Decepticon hadn't silently rolled within ten feet of them. The mustached man in the driver's seat gave them a brief look; before the car sped up and moved on to study a family of six trying to load into a Suburban.

As the gray mech disappeared down another isle Mikaela dug a small pouch out of her bag and unfolded a slender metal rod. Quickly and efficiently, she slipped it between the rubber seal and the window. One swift jerk and the locking knob popped up. She opened the door and crawled in.

Sam was still in shock. "The 'Con just drove by."

Mikaela was busy ripping wires out from under the dash. "Remember, Optimus said that they have a hard time telling one human from another with scans alone. They get information like height, weight, gender and age, but not identifiers. To tell people apart, they rely on visual clues like we do." She paused as she stripped the plastic insulation off a couple of wires. "The Decepticon was looking for us. Our heart rates and adrenaline levels would have given us away, so we needed a reason to have the increases. Also, a lot people fit our general description, and our faces were hidden, so we were just two disgustingly amorous humans to him." As she struck the two wires together, the engine coughed several times before it finally turned over.

The brunette adjusted her position and fastened her seat belt. The young man did the same, mimicking her actions more than conscious thought.

"You … you figured all of that out? Right here?"

Mikaela flicked her hair over her shoulder and looked at the man sitting next to her. "You know Sam; maybe you should spend less time playing video games and more time talking with the guys."

Putting the minivan in drive, she pulled out of the parking garage and into the harsh light of the day.

_**XxxX. **_

It was déja vu. She had been through sometime like this before. The Autobots were charging their weapons and preparing for battle, but this time it was different.

This time it wasn't some hidden threat. This time the enemy was moving in the open and laying waste to anything that stood in their way. It was a full-scale assault on Tranquility and its inhabitants. This time she didn't watch in fear and confusion, but she was an actual member of the team. Optimus barked her orders to her as he did to the others. Sitting in Central ops, she was hurriedly pulling up street maps and overlaying them on topographic maps when Ironhide laid a pistol like weapon in front of her. A quick lesson the make sure she could aim and fire. "I don't think you'll need it, but you never know." Spoken like a mech that has almost enough artillery on his body to take on a Nimitz class carrier all by himself.

She felt it when Prime entered the room. "You know what you are to do?" he asked.

"Yup, I've got the maps going, the local dispatch and Emergency Services tuned in, and as soon as you stop bothering me I will inform NorthCom of the situation." Sira responded while typing a way on the computer. Five different screens lit up with information. She turned one to CNN and another to MSNBC a screen was dedicated to the sensor array that surrounded the base. Thanks to Wheeljack, for staying up many nights, she knew how to use all of this tech stuff. It would be easier if she would just interface with the main computer that ran the base, but that really creeped her out. They tried it once, but the cold lifelessness logic of the machine unnerved her to the point she almost couldn't function. It felt like a terminal case of the willies. That kind of interaction might be natural the Autobots, but it wasn't natural for her.

She felt a hand grip her shoulder. "Lock up the base."

"I planned to. Now get out of here and save the day." Looking over her shoulder, she gave the mech a small smile. "And Optimus don't get your aft shot up. We have a book to finish."

A solemn nod was his response.

She counted six Cybertronian energy signatures heading away from the base at a rapid rate of speed. Everyone was out. She typed the commands that would lock the blast door at the top of the elevator shaft and raise the platform, a second layer of protection. She understood why they had left her; she was still a liability. They would be too busy watching after her than themselves, and in a battle that would get one of them hurt or worse. She had started weapons training with 'Hide and it wasn't going well. She could aim and shot, but nowhere near the proficiency level Optimus wanted her at. So here she sat, watching and waiting, but of little use to anyone. Most of her duties while the Autobots were gone consisted of busy work. Activities that would keep her distracted so she didn't tare the base apart in frustration. Optimus knew her well.

She opened a phone line and punched in the code for NorthCom while scanning to screens with her optics. She might have been reduced to the position of Uhura, but she was going to be the best damn Uhura in all of fucking Star Fleet.

"United States Northern Command," stated the cool male voice on the other end of the line. Sira gave the man the three words that would get her call routed where it needed to be…to the top. She briefly wondered how pissed off everyone would be when they realized Optimus had given her his codes; not that anyone on this end cared.

A few moments of silence ticked by. She could hear the line click several times as the call was routed and rerouted. Her optics wandered to the screen that showed the CNN news coverage. It was going to be hot in Texas today, and oil prices hit an all time high. No shit, on both accounts.

"This is General McKaffee," snapped the deep, confident voice. "What do you need, Optimus?"

It took everything she had not to growl threateningly at the vile human. She counted to three and said in the most neutral voice possible, "General McKaffee, this is NBE number...whatever, I forgot my number, designation: Velocity. I am calling on behalf of Optimus Prime. The enemy is currently attacking Tranquility … "Her voice trailed off as the images on CNN caught her undivided attention.

The overly polished and painfully, too tailored, female newscaster began, "We are going over to our affiliate at KGBG in Tranquility California for live footage of unusual events unfolding there." The scene changed to a shaky camera showing the image of an enormous seeker falling out of the sky and landing on the roof of a four-story building, missiles erupting from his sides and leveled a nearby grocery store. The screams of terrified people almost overpowered the local reporter's words, "This is not a joke! Huge robot things are destroying the Town! People are dying, and nothing seems to stop them!"

The camera shifted as a colossal mech with blue and red flames covering his armor came into view. Optimus stopped and fired at the seeker perched on the rooftop, and then he turned and looked at the camera. "Get out of the area! It isn't safe and we cannot protect everybody," Prime's thunderous baritone roared as explosions shook the ground and the camera.

Dimly, Sira was aware of the General saying something about, "underlings not knowing their place, and he was too busy for pranks." She didn't respond; she couldn't respond. All she was aware of were the images of Optimus taking heavy fire and staggering under the enemy's' assault. The great mech feel forward with an earth jarring crash, his blazing azure optics looking at the camera. He quickly flipped to his back, raised his barrage cannon and fired repeatedly at an unseen target. The transmission ended and the image returned to the CNN newsroom and the overly done woman sat with shock evident on her face.

Sira wanted to scream. She wanted to rush into the battle to help her friends. She wanted to punch the wall in frustration. She wanted to reach through the monitor and slap the female anchor into action, because she was stuck here and couldn't do a damn thing.

"Are you listening to me?" echoed the General's word in a condescending tone.

She had a target. "Turn on CNN you pompous bastard! They have better intel. then you do!" She yelled over the connection.

There was a long pause. Had she not heard muffled sounds coming for the General's end of the line, she would have assumed they had been disconnected. She was loosing what little control she had, and flung a nearby data pad out the door and down the hall. It did nothing to alleviate her anxiety.

A new voice came over the line. "Sira, this is General Pittenger. I…"

"Oh goody," she snapped. "Another General. Well, while you two are trying to figure out who has the shiniest brass buttons, my guys are out there getting their afts shot apart defending this country and its citizens."

"Autobot Velocity," started the new General. "I have already ordered an air assault team to assist Optimus Prime and his men. Ground reinforcements should arrive to the town of Tranquility within the hour. And Miss, for the record, I have the shiniest brass buttons and five stars. General McKaffee only had four stars and his buttons could use some much needed polish."

"Sir, I think I love you," she said with "heartfelt" honesty and gratitude.

Wumph!

Sira felt the vibration as it traveled thorough the earth and tingled her feet. She looked around trying to decide what the muffled noise was when she noticed the external sensors were gone. Nothing.

WUMPH!

This time the noise was much louder and it shook the base. She grabbed the edge of the console to help keep her balance. The icy fingers of fear began closing around her chest.

**WUMPH!**

She lost her balance as the noise and vibrations tore through the base. Lights flickered and the monitors before her rolled with static like an old TV that needed its rabbit ear antennas adjusted. The noise had been defining, but the silence that followed was worse.

A high-pitched moaning sound filled the empty halls around her. She knew that sound. It was the sound metal being stressed and tortured beyond its limits. She didn't have time to react. She didn't have time to think, before it felt like the world collapsed around her.

Sira found herself face first on the floor of Central Op. She violently shook her head to try to clear the static from her audios and opticals. She pulled herself to a standing position and stumbled into the hall.

It was complete devastation. Dirt and debris swirled around in a cloud to thick to see through. Out of instinct, she covered her mouth and nose before she remembered she didn't really breathe anymore. She slowly approached what was once the elevator shaft and tripped over a large slab of metal. It took her a few seconds to realize it had once been part of the blast doors that protected the entrance to her home.

A dark shadow dropped from the gaping hole of the elevator shaft and landed with a resonating thud. The dust and smoke hid all details of the newcomer and shrouded him in a hazy veil. All she could make out of the dark apparition was that he was big; at least as big as Ironhide and bulkier. The clouded shape shifted and two burning red optics looked at her.

Sira did the only thing she could do; she ran.

_**XxxX. **_

**A/N**: I forgot to thank everyone for submitting names. To everyone who submitted names for Sira, Thank you if was fun having so many wonderful options to chose from. If you are confused be her name right now, just wait.

To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Stubborn principle. To **hermonine** - Thanks. That entire scene came from a discussion on LJ. To **TheRavenQuoth** - I love Poe!! Thanks, Sira has such a potty mouth. To **Fennecfox03** - Thank you for the name. Oh, yea. Op is getting a little miffed. The movie verse OP doesn't seem as patient and unflappable as all previous OPs. To **i-love-me-some-leggypoo **- My LJ icon was created by masitfoot. And John Turturro takes very good care of himself. Go watch the Big Labowski. I wonder if OP was upset about one of his jackrabbits getting squished? To **flyingtwinkie **- Just trying to cheer you up. To **Punk Autobot **- Simmons wouldn't be Simmons if he kept his mouth shut. Hehe.


	34. Rules of Engagement

**Disclaimer: **Transformers do not belong to me in any way shape or form, but I do have an electrical transformer on a pole in my yard. Wait, that's owned by the power co-op.

**Warnings: **Rated R or T for violence, language, sexual situations and humor.

Thank you **I-love-me-some-leggypoo **for beta reading. Any mistakes are still mine and I claim full responsibility for them and any confusion or humor that may cause.

**Apologies from the author: **The military is **DOES NOT **know about the Sira/Velocity thing. Sorry, When I wrote the last chapter, I used "Velocity" most of the time, and realized it wouldn't work with the developments in this chapter. So Velocity was changed to back to Sira, and I forgot a couple of spots where it should have been Velocity. The Government is clueless about her, just remember that. I think I have changed everything to the way it needs to read, if you want to go back. I'm sorry, and don't pick on my beta. This screw-up was done after she made her corrections. Again sorry. (slams head on desk)

_**XxxX.**_

**Rules of Engagement**

_**XxxX.**_

Sira ran from the shadowy beast shrouded in the roiling cloud of dirt and dust. She could hear his laughter echoing after her as his murderous optics followed her retreat.

She dove around a corner and pressed her back to the wall. Activating her Heads Up Display she started trying to track the Cybertronian's electrical signature. Nothing registered. _Great, I probably knocked a wire loose, _she thought to herself. Turning off the useless technology, she decided it would probably just distract her.

There was one turn between her and the Decepticon. He couldn't shoot her, but he was still much too close for comfort. She resisted the urge to go any deeper into the base, for she might lose track of his location. As long as she knew where the intruder was, he couldn't sneak up on her; at least that was the theory.

Dropping as low to the ground as she could, Sira took a dangerous gamble and peeked around the corner. The mech was carefully picking his way out of the debris field the collapsed blast door had made. He stopped in the Central ops doorway and glanced around. A missile launcher on his shoulder sprang up and three rounds disappeared whistling into the room. Three explosions sounded as the base was plunged into darkness.

Sira quickly moved from her place; cutting right and then left; she ran into a wall once due to the total darkness. Dropping low to the floor in an attempt to make a smaller target, she listened for the sounds of footfalls. Silence.

A low hum reverberated throughout the base, and the back up generators kicked on. Safety lights flickered on, bathing the halls in a chiaroscuro of soft light and inky black shadows.

The 'Con started talking. His Cybertronian words traveled down the hall to her. She had no idea what he was saying and didn't really want to know. The tone alone was enough to send shivers along the length of the neural conduits in her back. His voice was almost singsong in nature, saccharine sweet with a biting edge. It sounded like a psychopath luring helpless puppies to him so he could beat them to death. She hated the voice; it would haunt her dreams for a long time to come.

"Oh, just shut the fuck up!" she yelled. Realizing her mistake, she moved deeper into the labyrinth like hallways. The mech's quick footfalls could be heard as he ran to her previous position.

"So, you want to communicate like the humans. Do you prefer to use the inferior language, or does the Prime make you? I have heard rumors that the Prime is forcing his followers to assimilate into the humans' culture. I have also heard that the Prime fears the humans because he is weak. Is any of this true?" A couple of catty replies flittered across her mind, but she remained silent; he wasn't going to bait her into giving away her location again.

She could hear his slow progress in her general direction. "Come out little femme, I want to play with you," he chortled, and continued to comment on what he was going to do to her when he finally got hold of her. She tuned him out and concentrated on silently weaving in and around the intersecting hallways.

Sira finally realized that the design of the base actually served a purpose. It was suppose to be confusing. The five long primary halls radiated from the elevator shaft like spokes on a broken wheel, but it was the cross-halls that made things interesting. They were space at irregular intervals and all looked the same. A person standing at the end of one cross hall, couldn't see down another. It was mazelike and disorienting to those not familiar with the base's layout. This place was designed to offer cover while defending against a siege. If the facility was ever finished it will resemble a distorted spider web when viewed from above.

Looking down, Sira realized she had the little pistol like weapon Ironhide had given her. She couldn't even remember grabbing it. Wouldn't old 'Hide be proud of her, even if she couldn't remember the name of the weapon? What was it called again: lazar, taser, phaser, photon, plasma, pumpernickel? It did not matter; after looking at the heavily armed mech, she knew she was grossly out-gunned. The only thing she had was the home field advantage.

She changed her location again, and squatted in the deep recesses of a shadow. This couldn't go on forever. Eventually this would end in a death, most likely hers, and that just wasn't an option.

Sitting in the darkness, she despised being hunted like some sort of helpless animal. Jal had taught her to retreat when faced with a superior foe. "The most important thing is for you to survive. Territories can be re-established else where, and hierarchies shift and fluctuate. One who was once a rival can later become an ally." He had taught her to run because of her small size and inferior strength; she could never have held her own against a full-grown male.

She had run all of her life, running and hiding from those who might harm her or expose her for what she once was. She was tired of running; tired of having to give up everything she had worked to build. Her new teacher never ran. The only time Ironhide retreated was to secure a better advantage over the enemy. Optimus never ran. He may try everything within his power to keep a conflict from escalating, but he never ran.

Sira had been taught to run and hide, but Velocity had been taught to stand and fight. Velocity knew how to use her smaller size to her advantage, and she was not going to cower in the corner, waiting for death to find her. She was better than this. Velocity would rather die defending her home from this…thing. This…thing that was unclean and leaving his taint all over her sanctuary like a cur dog marking its territory. He came here to threaten her, thinking he could do as he pleased; unchallenged by the Autobots. This…thing was going to pay for such arrogance.

Her fear sank into the recesses of her soul and hate replaced it. This was the same hate she had honed to a wicked point and hidden away so many months ago. With the hate came anger; it was a cold, righteous anger. She felt the anger of the just when forced to contend with the wickedness, and grotesque violence of those that embraced chaos. She wanted retribution from those that threatened what was hers: her home, her friends, her loved ones, her world.

Hate, anger, revulsion and vengeance coalesced into crystalline hard wrath; the wrath of a goddess cloaked in fire and steel. The wrath awoke something buried in the dark places in her soul. It paced and roared within the cage deep inside her. It wanted out and she gladly opened the gate. The years of denying her true nature fall away like petals from a fading flower. The ironclad control she kept on her instincts slipped and the heat of blood lust swelled within her. She wanted to hunt, to tear and to kill. Growling softly she let the hunter within take control.

A cold, logical intelligence filled her head, and spoke to her with her own voice. It reminded her that there was a dangerous adversary closing in on her location. Velocity moved again. The calm, calculating predator rationalized several scenarios for dispatching the intruder, before finally settling on a plan. Bleed him and weaken him, before delivering the final stroke.

Calmly, she went down a cross hall and began doubling back.

The Decepticon had figured out her location. She could hear the heavy, rapid thuds as the mech hurried to close the distance between them. She took a chance and sprinted to her destination. It was a mistake.

The enemy was stepping into in a cross hall as she ran passed the other end. Velocity barely registered the sounds of shots being fired until an impact sent her sprawling on the floor. The pain was hot, sharp and intense, but it only slowed her for a moment. She quickly regained her footing and dove into an open doorway. More rounds whistled past her, as she threw herself against the wall next to the opening.

She was in the Conference room, and the 'Con was laughing. He thought he had her cornered with only one way out, he thought she made a critical mistake, and he thought wrong. Any moment the mech would come through the doorway with the intentions of taking his sweet time butchering her.

Looking around she spotted the weapon she came here for; the weapon ancient to humans, her people and Cybertronians alike. She threw the pistol aside; for it was useless to her. Time to fight like the hunter she is. Snatching the flag next to her, she pulled it out of its stand and pressed the pointed metal cap to the hand. It was firmly attached and sturdy enough to do the job. _Bless you, Optimus for only buying the best_.

Crouching low and in the shadows next to the doorway, she gripped the makeshift spear with both hands and waited. It wouldn't take long for the 'Con to want to claim his prize.

It took longer than she had anticipated. The mech was taking his time approaching the room. She tried to ignore the pain in her shoulder and the flashing yellow status bar on the bottom of her vision. They were both unimportant right now.

Slowly, a massive gun slid into the doorway, and she held her position. Apparently, the mech knows that cornered prey could be dangerous prey.

She smiled viciously to herself. He had no clue just how dangerous.

The antagonist carefully stepped into the room, and Velocity struck. Using the speed in which she was named after, she leap up and rammed the flagpole under the mech's chin and up into one of his optics. The damage was breathtaking. Blue energon trickled down his face and sparks arched from the mangled optic as the mech tried to dislodge the pole.

Velocity dove between his legs with cat like agility and headed down the hall as quickly as she could. She knew she had missed his processor, for he was still standing and shots ricocheted around her. Such an injury might not be fatal in a human, so why would it stop Cybertronian?

She heard the 'Con roar in pain and rage. The sound of the flagpole hitting the floor rang out crisply. She wondered if the Decepticon realized it was the Autobot flag that was covered in his fluids.

Stopping in front of the med bay, she used Prime's code to override the locks. _ See Optimus I paid closer attention that you thought. _Running into the dark room, she snatched the tool off the wall. Making a hasty retreat she ran head long into the Decepticon. He swung at her and she spun in the same direction as his movements. Instead of the damaging impact of a full force hit, the mech only managed to rake his claws along her face. She didn't slow down. Using the momentum, she rolled, came to her feet and bolted.

Sliding around corners and bouncing off walls as she sprinted full sped down the corridors. Her pursuer would not give up. He was far faster then she had anticipated. She led him helter-skelter through the halls of the Autobot base. Both had the intention of killing the other and neither gaining the upper hand. At least he stopped shooting at her; he wanted her alive and screaming when he caught her. He had informed her of this wonderful fact with his endless chattering.

Velocity had started to out run the mech when another shot rang out and she felt the painful impact. _The fucking bastard had lied. _She stumbled and regained her footing, but it had costing her valuable seconds. Warm energon trickled down her back and began to cool, the wounds didn't matter. Knowing the end was near; Velocity pushed herself harder. Though the larger mech was fast, but he was burdened by the weight of artillery and couldn't keep up with her small lithe form. She was able to put sufficient distance between her and the Decepticon. Running a hand along a control panel, she opened a door and heard it close automatically as she hurried down the hall.

Turning a corner, she continued down cross-hall and doubled back the direction she had come. She wanted to get behind the mech. A frontal assault would be suicidal, but if she could flank him…

It took a little time and patience, the stalk always took time and patience, but she had him right where she wanted him. Crouching low, she watched him cautiously search the Autobots quarters, while moving away from her. He was convinced she had sought refuge in one of the rooms. She couldn't imagine _why_ he thought that, but it kept him distracted.

She concentrated. She stirred up all the hate, all the anger, all the fear and desire for violence and vengeance and let the emotions feed the furnace with in her soul. Had she thought about it, the power of her emotions should have scared her. However, she didn't have the luxury to self-analyze right now. Shutting out the rest of the world, she focused on just him and her. There was nothing else as the walls and rooms around them faded away. She had reached the calm place, a place where time did not exist. The place that she went to when she was forced to kill.

One of them was about to die.

Shifting Ratchet's tool to her right hand, she checked the position and grip of the item. If it went off early…well, it was just better to not let that happen. She stood and carefully aligned her self with the mech's blinded side and silently crept towards her prey.

It didn't take long for her to close the distance between them. She kept low, coiling her strong legs under her and growled a deep, dark threat. The mech spun towards the sound exposing his vulnerable blind side and upper torso. His mistake.

Velocity leapt. She had tackled 'Bee and Ironhide so many times she didn't even have to think about the action. It was now a reflex.

Landing full force on the 'Con's chest she felt him stagger, but he didn't go down. Using her feet, she dug her sickle shaped claws in between the armor plates on his waist. Hooking one set of talons for support, she started ripping and digging inside him with the other set. Delicate wires and vital components gave way to her grisly attack. At the same, she used her left hand to lock her thumb onto the damaged and empty optical socket, while the claws on her fingers latched into the side of the mech's head. The other hand slammed the armor separator into the seam that divided the mech's chest plates, and she hit the activation button.

The device did what it was supposed to do. It sprung the heavy chest plates apart and exposed the spark chamber beneath. The Decepticon's roars turned into a pitiful, squealing howl. He started trying to pull her off him, but he only succeeded on inflicting more pain upon himself, for when he pulled she would sink her claws in deeper. He would have to rip her limb from limb to remove her.

Reaching into to exposed chest Velocity grabbed hold of the enemy's spark chamber and thrust every bit of power she had into the mech's life force.

_**XxxX. **_

Epps was screaming for Ironhide, but no one could hear the sergeant with the sound of artillery exploding around him.

Finally, he was able to run to the black mech that was trying to help push the Decepticon force out of the town and away from civilians. "Ironhide," he yelled. The weapons specialist gave him a menacing look for interrupting him while he and the Camaro shot at an enemy target taking refuge behind a building.

"Your base is under attack! An F-22 pilot saw the damage while circling around," the communications officer reported. The mech's only response was a frown. Ironhide nodded to him and continued his barrage against the Decepticon.

Epps could only hope that the warrior just relayed the message. It was unnerving the way the Cybertronians' could communicate among themselves and never pause what they were doing. Lennox had once told him the Autobots could carry on several different conversations, surf the net and drive in rush hour traffic without getting confused. The Captain was spending way too much time alone with Ironhide.

Epps headed back to the fortified command vehicle and continued to relay information to help civilians and military alike deal with the alien war.

_**XxxX. **_

Optimus had heard Ironhide's message, and had turned to look towards their earthly home in the distance. The roll of the land prevented him from actually focusing in on the base. All he could make out was a thin wisp of smoke trailing skyward. Scanning for his Autobots, he found one that wasn't currently engaging the enemy or trying to assist injured humans. "Wheeljack. Return to base. There may be an attempt by the Decepticons to…"

He didn't have to finish his order when the scientist came back with, "Yes, Sir. I'll report what I find."

Prime pushed away all thoughts about an attack on the base and what could happen. He didn't have time to worry; he had the enemy to fend off and countless lives to save here. The one life in the distance would have to wait, for the needs of the many always out weigh the needs of the few. It was decision he hoped he could live with, no matter what the outcome. Narrowing his optic shutters, he focused on the situation at hand.

Spinning, he set off running towards a Decepticon; his energon sword ready to slice through enemy armor.

_**XxxX.**_

She was laying on something; of that she was aware. It was lumpy, uncomfortable and slick. Opening her optic shutters, she was staring into the twisted silver-grey face of an unknown mech. Pain and shock had contorted his features into a grisly epitaph. His remaining optic was dark and lifeless

She yelped and tried to move away. As she rose, up the world around spun violently on its axis, and she collapsed on top of the dead Decepticon. There was no way she was going to remain snuggled up to the lifeless carcass. As the furious rotation of the hallway had subsided into a gentle undulation, so she attempted to move once more. Sitting up was doable if she went about it slowly, but standing was impossible for her legs refused to co-operate and give any support.

With molasses like slowness, she was able to scoot to a wall and lean against it. Pain clouded her vision when her back brushed against the hard surface. Shifting around she was able to find a position that was tolerable and laid the side of her head against the cold surface. Looking over at the thoroughly deactivated 'Con, she showed him the middle finger on her left hand and whispered, "Fuck you, you bastard."

Her chest ached, and there was a strange hollowness inside of her. She felt like someone had tried to dig out part of her soul. She was lonely and so very alone.

Pulling her knees up, she rested her left forearm on a knee and tucked her other arm in her lap. The pain from the exposed and raw sensors reminded her she was alive. She had used her own body as a focus for the power she had unleashed. It had been a necessary sacrifice in order to kill the mech. Glancing down to where her right hand should have been, she saw only a mangled stub. Hopefully, Ratchet could replace the missing appendage. She really wanted her sword. It had been made to act as a focus and channel immense amounts of power, unlike this metal body.

The calm voice inside her head informed her that she needed to rest if she had any hope of defending herself again. Shuttering her optics, she waited in the darkness and silence. Hopefully, the next mech she saw would be one she called a friend.

_**XxxX. **_

He bounced along the uneven terrain as he sped towards the base. He probably should have used the roads, but this was the quickest route. Ratchet could tighten and reattach whatever the rough trip knocked loose. Then again, Wheeljack had never been one to worry much about the potential for damage.

He was aware of the Decepticon chasing him, but he didn't have time to stop. The Prime had sent him to protect the base and the femme inside. The trailing mech would be dealt with later.

As the engineer came over the rise, he could see the ruins of the base below. The terminal building and control tower were in a smoldering pile, and the hanger that once hid the entrance to the underground bailiwick was gone. Large pieces of thin sheet metal lay scattered about the area, and an impact crater scored the earth next to a gaping dark maw that used to be the elevator shaft.

Wheeljack felt his spark sink. He had come to consider the peculiar little femme his friend. She was unpredictable and inquisitive, qualities he appreciated. He didn't want to think about what a 'Con would do to her if she was caught alone, and he didn't want to see what was left if one had. He had been on the search and rescue team after the Decepticons had attacked the femme stronghold. Visions of what he found there would occasionally filter through his processor at odd moments and leave him frozen in fear. He felt the connection he had to Ratchet flare open. His bonded was trying to encourage him to hope and keep his wits about him.

He never slowed down as he entered the airport grounds. Dodging litter and the smoking remains of buildings, he sped up as he neared the hole. Without stopping, the agile mech drove straight into the elevator shaft and transformed in midair while dropping out of sight.

The Decepticon that had been following him barely slowed to investigate as he continued into the desert. He had problems of his own, for sunshine yellow Lamborghini was closing the distance between them.

_**XxxX.**_

Wheeljack landed and dropped to his knees, weapon at ready and scanning frantically. Nothing, not a single sign of life.

_Frag it! _

He couldn't even pick up any readings of the wall in front of him. Looking around he finally spotted it. A Decepticon jammer. The enemy would use them to neutralize Autobot scanners, making them virtually blind to all input but a limited visual spectrum and sound. This would also impair the enemy's sensors, but they usually had surprise and unadulterated brutality to compensate with. The enemy had used this very technique several times to handicap and reduce the Autobots' ranks.

Fortunately, Velocity relied almost exclusively on the visual spectrum and sound. If anyone could function properly in such conditions, it would be her. He only hoped she had been able to avoid the Decepticon.

Balling his hand into a fist, the engineer smashed the offending device into several pieces. He scanned again, and detected a faint energy signature. Heading in that direction he checked and cleared any room he came upon, shutting and sealing the doors. 'Cons have been known the mask their signals; laying in wait for the unwary to pass by before striking. He really didn't like being shot in the back. His mate was just now letting him live down the last time that had happened.

The scientist noted the holes in the walls caused by light artillery. He saw the splatters of energon that dotted along the floor. His hopes for the femme began to waver. A little further up, the Autobot flag laid crumpled in the floor. Energon, lubricant and coolant had dried to tacky consistency on the cloth. A good-sized pool of the fluids glistened nearby and part of an optic orb rested in the swirling discharge.

He carefully plucked the abandoned orb up and examined it. It reflected red in his headlights. Cautious hope flickered a little stronger within him. The two had clashed, and the feisty little femme might have been more than the 'Con could handle. Flicking the bit away, he hurried on. He needed to get to the femme and assess her damage.

There were few things that left the enthusiastic engineer in disbelief, and this was one of them. He had rounded a corner to find the remains of a Decepticon laying face up in the middle of the hallway. It looked like the 'Con had been blown apart. Pieces were was imbedded in the walls and ceiling. It was a slaging mess.

Squatting down, Wheeljack shifted the body so he could get a better look at it. From waist to collar supports there was nothing left. The entire upper torso was gone. Presumably, this was where the bits stuck into the walls and ceiling came from. Running an exploratory finger along the edge of the wound, he saw areas that appeared to be fused together. It took extraordinary heat to fuse Cybertronian armor. He wanted the corpse in his lab and…

He suddenly remembered why he was here and looked around for the femme. She was sitting in the darkness; her green optics glowed softly, giving away her location. The scientist carefully stepped over the body and walked towards her.

Velocity squinted as he swept his lights across her. She was sitting with her knees pulled in front of her, and her left arm resting on them. He noted a pool of energon collecting on the floor around her. Dents, scuffs and scratches all along her chassis reflected back at him. The long gauges marred the dainty face. But she was alive, and online. He squashed the urge to scoop her up and laugh with relief.

"Velocity, you've been injured," he stated as calmly as he could. The femme cocked her head to the side as if she was trying to figure out what he was. Something moved behind the gentle shine of her optics. Something dark and deadly was also looking at him. He had the distinct impression he might wind up like the mech on the floor if he wasn't careful.

Wheeljack knelt just out of reach of the injured femme. She was still looking at him with that curious expression. He reached out to her and made calming clicking noises. Velocity blinked a couple of times and looked around the hall. The dark thing behind her optics receded.

Quickly her attention came back to him. "Wheeljack?" she asked hesitantly. He nodded.

She sat for a few seconds like she was slowly processing something. Then, Velocity threw herself at him. The movement startled the mech and he froze in place, not knowing what to do. The femme pressed herself against him, and a hand rested on his chest. He carefully wrapped one arm protectively around her, while the other hand held the weapon he refused to let go of.

Taking a damage assessment, he discovered her right hand was almost totally gone, the metal around the wound was twisted and melted, but not irreparable. Two shots the back, both of which needed immediate repair, but neither were very serious unless left unattended. He collected the data and sent it to Ratchet. Opening a channel to the Prime, he reported his findings and received a weighted "Thank you" before the line closed.

Scooping the femme up, he carried her to the med bay. Pulling out the battery powered backup lights; he sat about prepping the area and treating a patient.

_**XxxX. **_

**A/N: Please note that the rating for this story is changing from ****T to M ****from here on out**. I hope this is not an issue for some of my readers.

Once again the flag is from War Journal. See Chapter 32's A/N for details. Really go read it if you haven't. They did a superb job.

To **Ladyofthebookworms** - Sorry. To **MajinBakaHentai **- Nope, mistake. Sorry. To **hermonine** - Thanks. I did screw up the last chapter though. To **Punk Autobot **- Sam and Sira would not shut up. They just kept rattling on and on. I finally told them to hush. J You know I love cliffhangers. To **Fae Child19 **- Again, it was a mistake. Sorry. Nope, not Soundwave. Glad you like the conversation. Thank you for reading.


	35. New Beginnings

**Disclaimer: **Don't own. This is only to entertain myself and anyone who cares to read it.

**Warnings: **Rated R or T for language, violence, sexual situations and humor, robot smut, and a whole list of other things that make this inappropriate to read.

Thanks to I-love-me-some-leggypoo for beta reading. This is so much better because of her nit-picking.

_**XxxX.**_

_**New Beginnings**_

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus closed the line between him and Defense Secretary Keller's cell phone. He was certain that he had just talked to every member of the United States government and the Armed Forces combined. It was a disaster of monumental proportions; Tranquility was in ruins and scenes of warring alien robots flashed across the screens of every TV that was turned on. The particularly unpleasant image of him taking several rounds from an unseen assailant was a favorite of the media. It had been used so often as a video bite that it had gone from repulsive to monotonous, and the twins were keeping a tally of how many times they had seen it.

The humans were demanding answers from their government, and the government was doing what it could to calm the population and prevent widespread panic. The President was overseas and had to cut short his visit to a couple of Eastern European countries. The man was en route to the United States, and a press conference was scheduled for tomorrow.

Prime slipped and allowed his voice express the aching weariness he felt while he was talking to the humans. It wasn't a tiredness of the body; he was suffering from wounds and exertion, but he had endured far worse many times before. No, he was suffering from a tiredness of the spark; a wound that was reopened with every skirmish and no medic could fix it. It had been during a debriefing with General Pittenger that the man interrupted him and asked if there was a problem. Prime replied to the negative and continued discussing defensive strategies. The general interrupted again, "Don't bullshit me. I can hear it in your voice. If you need to go, then go. I'll inform the SecDef you need some time to recover and we will go from there." Optimus silently agreed with Velocity's feelings of affection for this man.

Keller had called within ten minutes to personally check on Prime, and update him on a couple of issues that plans of action had been decided upon. He asked that the Autobots remain out of sight and he could buy them twenty-four hours of quiet time. It was all Keller could promise.

Optimus sat at his desk and pored over to data that was being sent to him by the military. Damage estimates, which roads were being closed and which ones were being used to reroute traffic from the area, supply shipments, arrests of looters, casualties, injuries, missing persons, unidentified dead, refugee camps and scores of other pieces of information dealing with the fallout of the battle. These people needed their help. The Autobots' scanning capabilities could penetrate the rubble of a building and find survivors within seconds. They could remove the debris quicker and more efficiently. They could assist in so many ways, but they were once again told to clear the area and remain hidden. In a rare fit of anger and frustration the Prime of Cybertron threw his data pad against the wall and watched it shatter into several pieces before raining to the floor. It wasn't enough.

He snatched up the warped and ragged bit of metal that carried a Decepticon shield. Sunstreaker was one of the last to return to the base, and he brought with him this morbid token of victory, ripped from a fallen mech's chest. The warrior never kept the trophies, he would silently enter Prime's office and lay the prize on the desk and leave. Optimus wondered if the yellow twin had ever presented any of his other commanding officers with such grisly offerings, or if this was reserved only for him. He never had the courage to find out the answer to the question.

Turning the bit of armor over in his fingers, Optimus watched the dried energon sparkle in the light. With a deft flick of the wrist, Prime sent the scrap sailing across the room to join the data pad. The enemy symbol struck the wall and stayed imbedded where it hit.

He stood and stalked out of his office.

Following the sounds of laughter he headed towards the rec room. Apparently, the celebration had started without him; it usually did. Looking in he counted four mechs and two humans. Sideswipe was already telling elaborate stories about his prowess in battle. The other twin was sitting back with a smirk on his face while Ironhide called the red Lamborghini a "bold faced liar". 'Bee was snuggled with his humans; the three were laughing at the antics before them. All were scraped, dented, sporting repair patches and new welds, but all were alive and functioning. This was the reason for the celebration; they had survived another day. Optimus didn't interrupt and continued on down the hall.

Ratchet and Wheeljack were finishing up in the med bay. Scraped parts were being gathered up to see if any could be repaired and reused. Spilt energon was being cleaned off the floor and equipment. The two mechs were talking quietly to themselves, making notes what supplies to restock, what tools to replace, and what to check on whom later.

It was Ratchet that noticed him first. "Optimus are you alright. Is the patch holding, or did you reopen that torn coolant line?" the medic asked with more than professional concern.

He shook his head. "I'm fine. The party has started and if you don't hurry, there won't be any high grade left."

"We are almost done here, Sir. Will you be joining us tonight?" asked Wheeljack. Optimus wondered when the engineer was going to lose the formality towards him.

"I haven't decided if I will be joining ." It was a truthful statement. He hadn't decided if he wanted to go. Usually, he didn't. "Ratchet, how is everyone?"

The chartreuse mech looked confused. "Didn't you receive my reports?"

"I did, but before I had a chance to read them; I…dropped my data pad and it broke."

His long time friend gave him a knowing look. "Everyone is fine. There were some severe injuries, but none required a prolonged stay in the med bay. Optimus, go and celebrate. Put the reports aside and for once celebrate the victory."

Prime shook his head. "The humans will not be celebrating our victory. They are too busy counting their dead." His tone was solemn. His mood dark.

"And how many more would have been died had we not intervened. If left unchecked the Decepticons will wipe all life off of this planet, and you know this. Yes, there has been death and destruction today, but what about all those we saved? What about those that Bumblebee got to the bank vault so they would be out of harms way? What about the reporter you shielded with your body so she could live another day? What about them? I know you are tired of the chaos and death. So am I. So are all of us. But if you don't celebrate the small victories; then this will turn you into a hollow shell. Optimus, every time we go to battle a little more of you dies inside. I can see it happening and wonder how much of you is actually left. What is going to happen when we win the war and there is nothing left of you but an empty, emotionless husk? Long ago I swore an oath to ensure and protect the health of the Prime. I do not take that oath lightly, and it frustrates me the way you torture yourself with guilt. I can't make you, but I would like for you to find something to celebrate about. Just so we can have some of that ornery, old Optimus back. I miss him." The medic's words were spoken from the deepest part of his spark, and his voice reflected it.

The Prime stood staring at the floor while he processed what the CMO had said. He glanced up to see the look of deep concern on Ratchet's facial plates, and nodded in quiet acquiescence, then left.

Walking back the way he had come, he passed by the rec room and the party was really cranking up in there. A heavy bass reverberated though the walls, while a male vocalist crooned, "We are the champions, my friends. And we'll keep on fighting until the end." He couldn't bring himself to step over the threshold, instead he nodded and smiled falsely when his mechs noticed him. He waved off their offers to join them. Heading back to his office, he saw Sam sitting in the hallway with his cell phone in his hand.

"Have you heard from your parents? Are they safe?" he asked the young man.

Sam wiggled the phone. "Yeah, that was them. They got out of the area before the fighting started. They are staying at a nice hotel. Mom is going shopping for clothes and basic supplies."

"Has Mikaela heard from her family yet?"

"Yea, 'Bee had to do some sort of signal bounce with Mickey's phone and got through to them. Then Ironhide relayed their location to Lennox and Lennox sent a team out to get them. Her dad is a little banged up, but nothing major. They should be at the hotel with my parents in a couple of hours. Dad booked several rooms, just incase. He is waiting to see what the government says, and then he is going to try and get the room rates cut." Sam shrugged with a "what can you do" expression.

"The next time you talk to your parents, tell them that CE Tech will pick up bills for both them and the Banes'. What ever they require I will pay for."

Optimus watched Sam jump up in excitement. The gratitude and astonishment the young man felt at that moment was almost painful. "You … you mean that! I mean, my parents have enough money to cover everything, but Mikaela's parents … um, you know. They can't really afford the hotel bill."

"Yes, I mean that. Hotel, food, clothing, medical treatment, whatever they require. What is the point of an eight digit bank account if I can't use it for such things?" Prime smiled a small smile. Just watching Sam run down the hall to tell his fiancé the news truly did lift his mood a little.

He wandered to his office, and realized he didn't want to be there either. He went to the Ops center and checked on the makeshift security measures they had installed, which consisted of one sensor relaying scans to a data pad. He could hear human voices echoing down the exposed elevator shaft. The military was hastily trying to erect a temporary building over the entrance to the base. The Autobots had offered to help, but Lennox shooed them all away.

He decided to go see the one person he had yet to check on.

_**XxxX. **_

Optimus stood outside the door and argued with himself if this was such a good idea. By the time he had returned to base Wheeljack had already tended to Velocity's injuries and she had left the med bay against orders. During the removal of debris, the Decepticon's remains, and trying to repair some of the damage; he had passed by her quarters several times and noticed that the door was locked from the inside. He left her alone; giving her the space and solitude she usually wanted.

Now he stood here trying to decide if he should intrude upon that self imposed exile. Finally, he raised his fist and rapped it twice on her door. Knocking was one of those gestures they had picked up from the humans. Autobots typically just walked in on each other; privacy had such a different meaning for them. He knew where each and every mech was on the base. His automatic scanners continuously located and triangulated the locations of all Cybertronian energy signals within range. And his mechs did the same. They had no need to knock, but they all found themselves doing it anyways.

A soft voice said, "Come in."

He opened the door to find Velocity straddling the back of a chair, her arms folded on her recharge bunk and her head resting on them. He could see the various scorch marks and dents on her frame. The wounds on her back had been repaired and protective plates temporarily welded on to help with the healing. Her optics were dim and her whole body seemed relaxed. He was about to say something when she shushed him and pointed up. The sound of a lone piano filled the air around them. As the music continued, she closed the shutters on her optics. He listened to a score that was melancholy and joyous at the same time. A story of sad triumph was playing though the speakers of the small room. He waited listening to the melody and watching Velocity lose herself to the gentle notes.

As the final notes drifted away, the femme shifted her position and looked at him. He could see the mark that the Decepticon's claws had left on her face. The wounds would heal and fade, but he wondered if the encounter left any wounds on her soul.

"That was a beautiful piece of music," he stated simply as the sounds another piano solo filled the air around them.

She had a wistful smile on her lips, and her optics contained palatable loneliness. "'Christofori's Dream' was one of my father's favorite pieces. He used to play it over and over whenever he was upset. He started playing it for me when he knew I was unhappy."

"Are you unhappy?"

"There is a party going on and you are missing it. Shouldn't the Prime attend all the social functions?" she quipped in a falsely cheerful voice.

"As the Prime, I get to choose what _social functions _I attend, and you ignored my question."

She sighed. "I am not unhappy. I just don't want to talk about what happened. Wheeljack kept pestering me with the why's and how's and I just don't want to talk about it. And now here you are nosing around. I killed the 'Con. Good, better him than me. I don't feel regret or remorse, and I probably never will. I am not like you Optimus; I do not morn the loss of every individual. There have even been a few people I was glad to see put in their graves. If that makes me a bad person, then so be it, but do not ask me to talk about what happened. It was bad enough when I touched his spark. It was so hate filled and cold, and I can still feel him inside of me. I want him to go away and I want to forget about it. So, just leave me with some nice music and I'll be fine." The words were softly spoken and her disposition unusually reserved.

He didn't like to see her in this mood. She was subdued, listless and despondent. He didn't like it at all. Absent was the fire and passion that burned within her soul and defined her person.

Her hollow words contained a startling revelation. He now knew what had happened, Velocity had accidentally bonded herself to the mech when she killed him; it wasn't a strong bond, but it was a bond nonetheless. _May Primus have mercy_, _she was suffering from having that bond severed_. The effects would probably lessen over time, but he was not going to leave her alone like this. She would need round the clock supervision for a while. Optimus remembered when he lost Elita, there had to be someone at his side, at all times, for many vorns.

"Actually, Sira," he said, stressing her name to remind her he knew who she truly was deep within her metal frame. "I came here because I do not wish to go to the party either, and was wondering if you would like to read tonight. We have almost finished the book and it would be a shame not to see how it ends."

His response to her statement threw her off balance. "Umm … sure. Okay. Let's finish the adventures of Mike the Martain. Shall we do this here or in your quarters?"

"I would like to do it in my quarters. There is more room," he answered as he stepped into the hall and waited for her. He saw a tiny smile play across her lips and wondered what she found amusing. At least she was smiling.

_**XxxX.**_

They both wound up on his recharge bunk. Velocity was sitting cross-legged facing him, and he was leaning with his back against the wall and his long legs stretched out. She turned the page to continue reading and tucked the mangled hand back in her lap. Wheeljack had cobbled together a thumb and two fingers as temporary replacements. The rest of the repairs would have to wait until later for a new appendage needed to be built.

"'But, Jill, there are only three places to look. Science - and I was taught more about how the universe ticks while I was still in the nest than human scientists can yet handle. So much that I can't talk to them, even about as elementary a gimmick as levitation. I'm not disparaging scientists. What they do is as it should be; I grok that fully. But what they are after is _not_ what _I _am looking for - you do not grok the desert by counting its grains of sand. Then there's philosophy - supposed to tackle everything. Does it? All any philosopher ever comes out with is what he walked in with - except for self-deluders who prove their assumptions by their conclusions. Like Kant. Like other tail-chasers. So the answer ought to be here.' he waved at piles of books. 'Only it's not. Bits that grok true, but never a pattern - or if there is, they ask you to take the hard part on faith. _Faith_! What a dirty monosyllable - Jill, why didn't you mention that one when you were teaching me the short words that mustn't be used in polite company?'" Velocity shifted and stretched her back before continuing.

"'She smiled. 'Mike, you made a joke.' 'I didn't mean it as a joke … and I can't see that it's funny. Jill, I haven't even been good for you - you used to laugh. I haven't learned to laugh; instead you've forgotten. Instead of my becoming human … you're becoming Martain.'" Velocity faltered after the last three words. To Optimus it appeared as if she lost the ability to speak; her mouth was moving, but she wasn't making any sounds.

"I … I have to go," she finally managed to say in a shaking voice.

Optimus grabbed her arm. "No. No, you don't," he whispered. He could see the tempest swirl behind her optics. He pulled her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. He murmured soothing nonsense and ran a hand along the back of her head. The red femme didn't resist.

Simple words inscribed on simple paper, that was all they were, but they told so much. They echoed one race's attempt to find a place on an alien world, among an alien culture. They whispered to an individual's fears of becoming someone else. They were still words on paper. Appearing harmless and benign, but they held the power to change lives. Simple words could ignite revolutions or soothe a pain filled soul. Written words could tear a world asunder or bridge the gap between to lonely people.

Prime took the book from Velocity, closed it and placed it aside. He held the femme until she relaxed against him. She gave off a comfortable warmth, and he could feel her chuckle silently. Angling her head she looked at him. "Stupid book," she said in a mocking tone.

"It is considered one of the cornerstones of modern Science Fiction. I hardly think it is 'stupid'." He smiled softly at her, knowing she truly didn't believe the book was inferior.

"Now you're just being patronizing," she commented.

He started touching her head and tracing around her audio receptors; along her jaw line to her chin. She shuttered her optics and nuzzled her face into the palm of his hand. He felt his core temperature rise a degree or two in response. Taking a chance, he used the back of his fingers to caress her cheek with feather light touches. She sent him a glance that made his pump speed up.

He touched her neck and rubbed the sensitive wires there before he trailed his hands over the small shoulder and down her beck. Velocity shivered in response. Optimus made a low, deep rumbling sound in his chest, and he shifted their positions until the femme was straddling his lap, facing him as he leaned against the wall. He pulled one leg up to give her some support.

A million things crossed his mind. A million words arranged themselves into a million sentences. And all that made sense was one simple word. "Stay."

Prime laid a hand on each of Velocity's shoulders and carefully ran them down her sides and across her abdomen, following the lines of her armor with an indulgent slowness. Slipping his thumbs between the seams in her armor, he sent a small electric charge into the relays in her hips. She twitched and moaned. The summer green optics never wavered from his. Keeping one hand where it was, he lifted the other to caress her chest.

He felt her touch. Taking her wrist he trailed her hand across his chest and up to his neck. Slender fingers slowly caressed cables, and gently slipped into the sensitive recesses. Optimus moaned when the femme brushed against neural wiring and caused a pleasurable misfire. Velocity must have been paying close attention, because delicate fingers repeated the action, and he couldn't help but twitch and growl with pleasure.

The cautious caresses turned into erotic strokes as Velocity's confidence grew. He let her explore his body, and discover what he liked. It had been so long since he had allowed anyone to do this. He let out a deep moan as she slid a hand under his armor plating and tickled his fuel pump. _Dear Primus, this feels good_.

Some thing flared behind in the femme's optics. He could feel the heat radiating out from the smaller body perched on his lap. Her hand explored his face and head. When Velocity ran a hesitant finger along finals on his audio receptors, he thought he would melt. Groaning in near rapture, he encouraged the femme to do it some more.

He watched her concentrate on pleasing him. The predatory look in her optics and the wicked, carnal smile on her lips literally made his engine race faster. She growled seductively and pulled roughly on a cable in his neck. It might have hurt had it not felt so incredibly wonderful. He let himself become lost in need and desire. A place where pleasure and pain blurred into one. It was too much too soon, and his control was slipping. He pulled her hand way from his body, the overload would be nice, but cheap and meaningless. Thatwas _not_ the reason he was doing this, he wanted something more.

"Please. Please, give me something other than reports and death rosters to come back to," he pleaded. His words were heavy with need.

The femme startled him when she pressed her lips against his. It was an organic response meant for supple skin, not the more rigid facial plates of a mech. It might be something to explore in the future, but right now the kiss felt awkward. Not the sensual stimulus to him as it was to her.

When she parted from him, he gently touched her neck, and followed the lines and curves of her femme chest, sending small pulses that lingered after he had already moved his hand to another area. He put every thing he had to offer in the gentle caresses. Small touches that enticed, encouraged and promised much more.

Going back to her shoulder, he slowly tickled his fingers down her arm, watching her carefully. Her temperature was increasing, and her optics were deepening in color. No longer the color of grass, but something reminiscent of an exotic plant that only grew in the forest shadows. He could feel his own spark flicker and flare within his chest, a response to her rising desire.

Optimus touched the access port on that thin wrist, and was rewarded with a shiver from the femme. He continued stroking and pressing against the sensitive area; teasing the tactile receptors lining the opening. It was unrestrained seduction. He wanted her to need him.

Lifting her arm between them he turned it so they could both see the port. He uncoiled his connection cable and made sure she was watching him as he slowly slid the rod into her arm. He was waiting for her to stop him, but the request never came. Once the link between them fully opened he slammed a magnetic pulse into the femme; setting off every pleasure receptor in her frame. She arched her back and cried out.

It was only the beginning. With one hand locked onto her hip and the other wrapped around her wrist, Velocity couldn't escape him had she wanted to. He pushed her to the brink of overload and then pulled her away just to hear her whimper. Her ecstasy would rebound along the interface link fueling his even more. He forced her suffer the most exquisite torture until she begged for release, but over the link he heard her begging for more. He made her writhe and cry aloud with pleasure, and he enjoyed every second of it. Each moan sent him closer to his own overload.

He let go of her hip and ran a single finger over the seam in the center of her chest. He looked her in the optics and repeated the motion. "Open for me," he said in a dark voice. She froze, and locked her optics on his. Over the connection he could hear her question.

He ran his finger along the seam with excruciating slowness. Then slipped the same finger under the edge of the armor and brushed against the latch that locked the plates into place. "Open for me," he repeated with a growl. For a moment he thought she was going to deny him what he wanted, then her chest panels slid back to reveal the modified spark chamber. This also revealed the intricate filigree pattern that was etched around the chamber. He couldn't help himself as he traced the pattern with a finger. Watching Velocity shutter her optics and sigh; he realized he could do this one thing for cycles and never tire.

His own chest armor slid back to expose his spark chamber, the thin shielding around the chamber shifted to reveal the pulsing flickering deep blue light. Tendrils were already reaching out towards the femme when she followed his lead and allowed her own chamber to open. Housed within wasn't the arcing blue spark of a Cybertronian, but a swirling ball of flame and light. It was a soul. The thing that would always set her apart.

Optimus didn't hesitate. He hooked his arm around he smaller femme and pulled her to his chest. As spark and souls merged, Prime wrapped Velocity in his consciousness. He could feel the heat slowly move throughout this form and envelope him. Her powers awoke and called to every atom in his body, and his metal frame wanted to answer to her; bend to her will. He could lose himself to her heat and fire. Let her temper him to her will, but he wouldn't give in, his will was stronger.

He moved within her essence, wanting to experience all that she was. Memories flashed in his mind, memories that had never been his. Childhood friends that had grown up moved on. Laughter echoing through a frozen forest. Soft sand and the rolling waves on the edge of an endless ocean. A male with snow white fur and ghostly spots. "Jal" came her answering sigh.

Optimus lingered on the memory. He could feel the strong emotions the thoughts of the feline awoke within Velocity. They had been lovers and friends, and she missed him terribly. He became aware of other memories. Memories of the male entering her body, and the sensual pleasure they took from one another.

Prime pushed on. He found dark recesses where her nightmares lived, and he ignored them for now. It was bonding at its roughest and most desperate. He would take time to savor her later. He would let her into his memories to learn what she wanted about him. Later they could leisurely explore each other, but time was running short. He could feel the femme becoming fatigued. Her recent injuries were starting to take their toll.

He pushed on. Rubbing against the barriers that surrounded the center of her being he asked to be let in. He wanted her bonded to him. He wanted this strange creature to belong to him and he wanted to belong to her. He pushed against the barrier relentlessly, and they fell away as she surrendered to him.

The heat was almost unbearable. It burned and scorched him, but there was more. Something moved within the depths of her soul. He could feel the wildness, the feral alien-ness of what she truly was. The fire gave way to soft fur covering hard muscle. He could feel the predator circle around him. It wasn't a physical sensation, it was in his mind as well as his spark. It brushed against him and purred in recognition.

As his spark fused with her soul and the two became one, he knew what it was to be her. To hear the wind whisper its secrets. To taste a thunderstorm and the feel the pulse of the Earth's fiery, molten metal heart. It wouldn't last long enough for him. He had spend too much time and energy seducing the femme, but there would be other times. Other chances to do nothing but bonding.

Keeping his hold on the smaller body he sent one last powerful electric pulse into Velocity. It didn't push her into overload; it shoved her into a freefall of bliss. They were joined together beyond the physical level, and she drug him into ecstasy with her.

_**XxxX.**_

Optimus didn't move the red femme that was sprawled across his chest. He liked having her there.

He had spent the last few minutes stroking her and thinking of another. Sira … Velocity, whichever name she finally chose to go by, wasn't Elita. Nor could she be, and that was acceptable to him. He had no intentions of trying to replace his sparkmate, but he didn't want to spend his days alone either. He enjoyed the feisty, foul tempered female. She had a passion and zest for life he wished for. She was contrary and humorous, fearless, fierce and vulnerable, independent and amiable. Her emotions were powerful, deep and pure. All of this mixed with a quick, if quirky, intelligence to create a fascinating companion.

Turing within, he searched his spark for the connection between them. It was there, but it was tenuous; weak. It would take time to strengthen it. More time spent bonding, sharing and building on what they already had. He looked forward to it.

This would never be the all encompassing bond like he had before. There were times he couldn't tell where he ended and Elita began. They had bonded within days of meeting, there had been no other choice for them, they had just belonged together. The bond that united he and Elita had almost destroyed him when it was severed, and it left a void within his spark. He didn't think Velocity could fill it, and that wasn't her responsibility.

He had been honest when he asked for something to come back to from the battlefield. It was getting harder and harder to care if he lived or died. This little, out of the way, blue planet had given him something to live for again, and he would protect her home as if it was his. And for now it was his home. Even if he returned to Cybertron, Earth would always have a special place in his spark.

Looking down he could see a pin point of light deep within her optics. He allowed himself a smug smile. Once, long ago a very wise, old mech had told him, "If the femme can say more than two coherent syllables, then you aren't interfacing properly". He took that advice to spark. This femme couldn't even have said his name.

She stirred and nuzzled his neck. He patted her on the back. "Sira?" he asked.

"Mmmm."

"Come on Sira. Say something."

A lazy, growly, "No," followed with, "The name's Velocity," was her answer.

He chuckled. In a little more serious tone he added, "I was talking to Secretary Keller earlier and the government has decided they will never be able to cover up the attack on Tranquility. Tomorrow they are going to hold a press conference and inform the world of our presence."

The small, red head snapped up so fast Prime wondered if she had hurt herself. "What! … Oh, my. Do the others know?"

He shook his head. "I have yet to make a general announcement. In a few days I am expected to go to a 'secured location' for a media conference introducing myself and the Autobots to the public."

All her face registered was shock. He could see the thoughts spinning furiously within her head. If he concentrated he could feel her conflicting emotions through their bond.

He carefully pushed her off of him so he could stand. Going to one of his storage cabinets, and pulled out a well worn data pad and connected it to his HiDef TV. Velocity moved to stand beside him and watched. On the TV, a cgi of the old airport appeared. The area around the base entrance was cleared and the foundations for a building appeared from nowhere. The construction of a spiraling white tower began and ended within seconds. Smaller, grey buildings scattered about the land. Wide streets and lush green parks finished the cityscape.

"What is?" Velocity asked after the animation started over.

With a swell of pride Optimus said, "Autobot City."

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N: **The party music is We Are The Campions by Queen. The piano piece Velocity is listening to is Christofori's Dream by David Lanz. And once again they readings are form A Stranger In A Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein.

To **ladyofthebookworms** - Sira has trouble holding her tongue…eh, vocal processor. The small ones always fight dirty. To **TheRavenQuoth **- Thank you. The fight scene was a bitch to write, Wheeljack has become one of my favorites to write. Glad you enjoyed. To **Hermonine **- Thank you. Cats are vicious hunters. They deserve the respect. To **Flyingtwinkie **- How ya feeling? Thanks, I was hoping it would be a page turner. To **Alpha Dragonwulf **- Now you know why the rating changed ;) Thank you for adding me to your fave list. I get all giddy and smiley when people fave ES. To **wirewolf** - Who's the 'Con? I have no clue. Think of him as the no name ensign from Star Trek. You know the one that ALWAYS dies. To **Punk Autobot **- Hehe thanks, Woot woot, girl power! I can't believe I just wrote that. To **Fae Child19 **- Nope, not the brightest crayon in the box. But, he had a reason for doing what he did. Oh, Can't tell you more. Spoiler alert. To **fennecfox03 **- Everyone, poor fox had the distinct pleasure of running over a rabbit on a four wheeler. Yup fox, I'm picking on you a little. I hope you don't mind and I hope this makes your camping misadventure a little better.


	36. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. Okay, Velocity/Sira belongs to me, but nothing else does

**Warnings: **Rated M - If you've read this far you know why.

Thank you to I-love-me-some-leggypoo for beta reading, and correcting, and sending me emails demanding rewrites. She is an angle.

_**XxxX.**_

_**Epilogue**_

_**XxxX**__._

Velocity watched the shadows shift and turn as the day waned towards night. The harsh wind had started to taper off, and small animals scurried about searching for any last morsels before bedding down.

She glanced at the colossus behind her, his head turned and intense optics swept over her form. She suppressed a shiver, and turned her attention back to the horizon and watched the comings and goings of the military vehicles.

"Well," she said over her shoulder. "What did Prowl have to say?"

The air stirred and she could feel the breeze as it made its way through the openings in her armor to tickle the protoform beneath. Optimus moved beside her. "They are coming. He and Hound have made contact with the refugee Autobots and they should reach this solar system within a month's time."

Velocity looked up at the mech and narrowed her optics. "But? I know the tone Optimus there is a 'but' hidden somewhere."

Prime emulated a sigh. "But the Ark and her crew have sustained heavy damage while engaging a band of Decepticons. The Ark has lost the use her orbital stabilizers." Velocity remained quiet, waiting for her leader and bonded to elaborate. "Without the orbital stabilizers, the ship will quickly succumb to a planet's gravitational pull, and…"

"Crash. Yea, I figured that part out. So, land it on Earth."

"We can't, the Ark is an interstellar transport ship, she is not equipped land on a planet, and I do not want to lose Teletraan1." His words were heavy with worry.

The femme watched the large mech for a few seconds. She knew what he was doing, he was brooding. All of the what- if's and maybe's of the situation were playing through his processor again and again. She hated to see him this way. The weight of his responsibilities continuously wore on him and darkened his moods. Not today. Today, she wouldn't let him agonize over the maybes.

"They are coming, and that is good news, Optimus. Enjoy it. The other issues can be worked out later, but right now, just enjoy the fact that others have survived and are coming." She smiled softly at the Prime, and he gave a slight smile in return.

She knew that smile, he was humoring her. She despised being humored. Doing the only thing she could, she reached over she laid a hand on one of the tires that lined his legs. Giving it a good shove, she sent the mock Goodyear spinning at a furious rate.

Optimus actually startled. _Apparently, no one had ever done that to him_.

She started walking towards the entrance to the base. Adding a little sashay to her strides she called over her shoulder, "The President's speech is about to start, and you are not allowed to stay out here and mope around all night. I have plans for later."

She heard his footfalls trailing behind her, and smiled knowingly to herself.

_**XxxX.**_

_**FIN**_

_**XxxX.**_

**A/N**: Thank you everyone for reading. Thank you **Lady Sunflower, okami-myrrhibis and I-love-my-some-leggypoo** for beta reading. Thank you f**ennecfox03** for naming Velocity. Thank you **Ladyofthebookworms **for asking so many damn questions, and keeping me on track. You forced me to try and close the plot holes. Thanks to everyone for commenting and making this so much more than a work of fan fiction. It was fun. Hugs and kisses to everyone.

To answer the most obvious question is there going to be a second part? Maybe. Ideas have been circling around in my head for a while, but don't hold your breath. These 36 chapters took over six months for the plotline to form and another what six or seven months to write. If a second part shows up it will probably be this fall or winter.

Author sighs with relief and heads out the door for a bike ride.


End file.
